


Conflict Of Interest

by managerie



Series: RINCH [4]
Category: Person of Interest (TV), Starsky & Hutch
Genre: Adult Content, Canon-Typical Violence, Crossover, Don't Have to Know Canon, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, M/M, S/H - Freeform, Swear Words, rinch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-12
Updated: 2013-07-07
Packaged: 2017-11-16 03:32:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 78,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/535010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/managerie/pseuds/managerie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Person of Interest crossover with Starsky & Hutch</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue & First Chapter

**Author's Note:**

> A knowledge of Starsky & Hutch is not needed to fully understand the story. Knowledge of Person of Interest would be helpful but not needed to fully understand.
> 
> Betas: [ **Mamahub**](http://mamahub.livejournal.com/) and [**i_m_just_jay513**](http://i-m-just-jay513.livejournal.com/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Author's Notes:** [Here](http://managerie.livejournal.com/11580.html)

  


~ * ~

The walk from his yoga class that morning had given John enough time to relive Harold’s abduction three months ago. Reese chided himself for wasting time in the session and upped his pace. When he reached the library he was almost running. John took that first step and grasped his gun, then caught himself.

Finch was fine.  
  
Safe in his perch.  
  
Home.

In three months, Harold had not made any attempts to go out in the field. Reese hadn’t even once suggested it. The stairs to the library allowed Reese to calm himself. Each step let him remember that Finch was safe. Harold and Bear would be waiting for him at the top with a new assignment.

Repeating to himself, ‘Finch is fine, Finch is Fine,’ John reached their floor and steadied his breathing. Damn it, Reese should be over this by now. Each time he panicked put him one step closer to slipping in front of Finch. If Harold even suspected he was being coddled he would rebel like a seventeen year old whose father was chaperoning a dance. Get it together John.

Reese shook his body all over, loosened his joints and emptied his mind. With cockiness he wasn’t feeling, John sauntered into the room.

Finch looked up and stood. He stiffly hobbled over to the cracked board and taped an NYPD staff photo of a curly headed smiling man in his late 50’s or early 60’s. Salt and pepper hair ran riot around the blue cap. Most of his Dress Blues were obscured by a myriad of commendations and medals.

Harold limped back to his chair to find John leaning against a bookcase leafing through a book with Bear at his feet. Seating himself, Finch said, “Mister Reese, we have a new number.”

John closed the book with a pop and replaced it. He sat down across from Harold. “Yeah, you gonna tell me or do we play 20 questions?”

Ignoring the tone, Finch handed over a dossier about six inches thick. “A decorated police Captain in Brooklyn. Bensonhurst to be exact: David Michael Starsky.”

“Starsky? Why does that name sound familiar?”  
  
Finch passed over a copy of a 1980 New York Times with the headline " _Gunther Gets the Gavel"_.  
“I did say decorated, Mr Reese."

Reese skimmed the article recounting Starsky’s role in the case. He looked up. “James Gunther? He was a hair’s breadth from president, right? That was a huge case in ’79. Massive conspiracy. Major crime organization.” Reese continued to read through the file. “Finch, it will take a week to sort through who wants Starsky dead. Any indication he’s dirty?”

“Absolutely none. In fact, when Starsky joined the Brooklyn precinct after a sterling career in L.A., he was instrumental in cleaning house. The 68th is known as a squeaky clean precinct, largely due to Starsky’s leadership. Kenneth Richard Hutchinson.” Finch passed over a picture of a balding blond in his 60’s with a goatee along with another six inch thick dossier. “His partner in Bay City, California, is now serving his second term as a New York City Councilman. Before that he was a liaison to the Department. He received his Master’s in psychiatry and finished his law degree in California before moving here with Starsky in ’89 to take care of Rachel Starsky. She is now deceased, but at the time she was in failing health and the family asked her oldest son to look after her. So as not to make an elderly woman move from her home of forty years Lieutenant Starsky and Attorney Ken Hutchinson moved to New York.”

John’s brow creased. “Partner? What kind of partner moves cross country to help his ex-partner take care of his mother?”

Finch pierced Reese with a frank stare, over his glasses. "Life partners Mr. Reese. Is that going to be a problem?”

“What? That Starsky’s gay? Why would it be a problem?”

Standing again, Finch made his way over to a bookcase. With his back to Reese he said, “I _am_ aware of your work for the Agency, Mr. Reese. I can hardly infer a tolerance for alternative lifestyles.” Harold turned and once again made eye contact with John. “from a history of luring closeted, scared gay men into an affair only to later blackmail them.”

Indignation fueled Reese to sit up. “Now hold on. I volunteered for those assignments in order to assure myself that those men were treated right. You have no idea about the agent who was asked to run those honey trap missions. He was a serious homophobe and treated them with contempt.”

John sighed and rubbed his left hand over his face. “Sure I received information from them, just like I gathered intel from the wives and daughters of powerful men.” Reese looked directly at Finch. “But I _never_ blackmailed them by threatening to expose their orientation. If their lives were in danger because they decided to pass sensitive information, classified information to their bed partners, that was on them.”

Taken aback by John’s ire, Harold backtracked. “I did not mean to offend you…”

“Those operations were being run with unusual cruelty." John’s face was set, his jaw clenched. “It was sloppy. Stanton knew I was Bi and asked me to intervene. She was a hard woman and a fierce agent but she tried to keep all missions clean.”

Reese stood, “I might have lost my way, but not then. When I started to cross too many lines I stopped getting involved in honey trap ops. You should know me better than that.” He walked stiffly over to the kitchen.

Slowly, Finch followed Reese, “John. Honestly. I never thought you were homophobic or cruel. But you have to understand with your military background and work in these ‘honey traps,’ I had to be open to the possibility.”

Reese spun around. “What? That if a number came up that was gay I was going to refuse?” John lowered his voice. “Why didn’t you just ask?”

Finch raised his hands in a placating manner. “At the first opportunity which is now, I did ask.”

Harold set his arms at his side and took a step forward with eyes downcast. “I would never want to put you in a situation where you were uncomfortable.”

John crossed his arms, fully aware of the defensive posture. “Locked in the trunk of a car on fire, that’s uncomfortable. You were willing to work with an armed homophobe?”

Harold sighed, “From your background I could infer many different scenarios. One being a dislike for gay men. Another…” He faltered.

Not liking where this was going, Reese said. “Just say it Finch.”

“Time and time again your superiors asked you to do things in the name of protecting your country that you would normally deem distasteful.” Harold stepped back and turned. “If the honey pot operations were something of that nature, I would hesitate to put you in a situation that could bring up unpleasant memories.”

Reese followed Finch back into the computer room. “Unpleasant memories?”

Finch sat in his chair. The older man seemed to be agitated and hesitant. Finally, Harold looked up and stared at the wall not making eye contact with John who stood behind him about six feet. “If your participation was not voluntary, I would consider it to be no less than institutionally sanctioned rape, Mr. Reese.”

The word and its implications hung in the air between them. John didn’t know what to say. Harold knew what he had done on many missions. Most people would think he deserved any unpleasantness thrown his way. Before Reese could formulate a response, Finch sighed and began typing. “As I said, I would never want you to be uncomfortable with a number.”

Reese pulled his chair next to Finch. “It wasn’t like that: a couple of discreet dates, pillow talk, nothing more, nothing damaging. I hated the necessity of it but, unsecured intel was available. We needed the information and we had to use any assets we could find.”

Now it was John’s turn to hesitate as he said. “But, thanks.”

“I hardly see a reason for gratitude.”

“Not just about, well trying to protect me I guess.” Reese ran his left hand over his face and sighed. “For not even blinking when I said I was Bi.” He looked at the side of Harold’s face. “Most people, most men take a step back after hearing that.”

Oddly, Finch snorted. “I’m hardly going to be disgusted by you, Mr. Reese. And the absurdity of the thought that you would overpower and ravage me doesn’t bear to be entertained.” In a soft voice Harold continued. “I learned long ago that you would never willingly hurt me, John.”

The use of his first name by Finch had been popping up increasingly. The implied trust in Harold’s statement combined with the familiarity of first names left them both fidgeting.

Finally, Finch keyed in some information and the monitors displayed Starsky’s file as well as several articles. “Captain Starsky and Ken Hutchinson were in the academy together in 1969. They were partners on the job from ‘72 until ‘82 when Hutchinson passed the bar and hung up his shingle in the city of Los Angeles.”

“Finch, between the cases in LA and the cases in New York from both partners, we have 44 years of criminals not counting personal grievances, gay bashers and apparently a long string of ex-girlfriends and wives. By the time we track down who might be after Starsky he’ll be a year in the ground.” Reese said as he lifted and slammed the file down.

Finch continued typing. “That’s why you are going to shadow him. We cannot predict who might be after him so we must simply protect him at all times.”

John leaned back with a smirk. “Simply? I might be highly trained and damn good at my job, but I do need to sleep.”

Finch leaned forward and grabbed a slim file, handing it to Reese “As I said, _we_ must simply protect him; you during the day as Detective John Rodgers, and I monitoring at night in the house across the street while you rest.”

Fear gripped John’s heart. What did Finch mean he would be across the street? “And what are you going to do if something happens? Waking me could take precious seconds. You can’t get across the street in time and even if you did poking them in the eye could be difficult at night.”

Harold raised an eyebrow. “Cute, Mr. Reese. Actually Detective Fusco will be joining me since he won the chance to attend a special conference for two weeks.”

How odd was it that knowing Lionel would be there actually settled John’s nerves? “Really? Why not Carter?"

“Detective Carter has a son who would like to see his Mother since his father passed, as you know. Detective Fusco will be able to spend the day with his son for several hours for two weeks with his ex-wife's permission. Also, if we close this case before the two weeks are over, the Detective will have some extra time on his hands."

“You seem to have thought of everything: As usual. What’s my background?”

 

 

 

 

~*~*~

**Chapter One**

A garden bursting with flowers and shrubs accosted Starsky’s paper boy as Reese peered out his own front window across the street. Starsky was greeting the neighbor’s kids and packing his car. Captain Starsky lived on the north side of Bensonhurst. His cute little yellow two-story sat along a canal with ducks swimming by. The front door opened abruptly to present a harassed looking balding blond. _That must be Ken Hutchinson_ , thought John. It probably would have been a better idea to let Fusco tail the Councilman. After all, most homicides were a family affair.

Trying to get a better feel for their number’s ‘partner’, Reese looked him over: Tall, about John’s height, used to be pale blond. Nothing stood out. Reese noticed Starsky ran over to his housemate. The brunet looked slightly panicked. The reason for his concern became apparent when he helped Hutchinson down the stairs. Hutchinson had a severe limp and carried a cane. Even the small steps off the porch seemed too much for him. Like a certain recluse Reese knew, Hutchinson did not use the ramp.

The blond shooed away his concerned friend’s arm and limped painfully to the candy apple red Shelby Mustang with white racing stripes. That car screamed mid-life crisis. Hutchinson opened the passenger side and awkwardly maneuvered into the muscle car. Starsky went to the driver’s side looking apologetic.

“Must be the Captain’s car.” Fusco moved behind Reese to admire the vehicle. “Man that’s a beaut. I’d hate to be unable to really let her rip cause my legs don’t work. Hutchinson must be jealous.”

Reese stepped away from the window and surveyed his own temporary housemate. Fusco would be sleeping during the day and had his own bedroom upstairs across the hall from Reese. “Hutchinson strikes me as more practical than that. The tan Volvo wagon in the drive looks more his style.”

Fusco scoffed. “That clunker? It must be over 15 years old.”

John moved closer to Lionel, crowding him. “But in perfect working condition.” Reese decided to see if he could make Fusco squirm. “I’m sure there are other sacrifices Starsky has to make having a lover who’s unable to maneuver. I imagine their sex life has taken a turn for the unimaginative: Can’t really get those long legs over your shoulders when dealing with an injured partner. Hutchinson probably can’t thrust well when he’s the top. I’m sure they make do with a hand job here and there. Maybe the car’s a conciliation prize from Hutchinson.”

Fusco grunted and sat down on the couch with his own newspaper.

Movement from the kitchen caught John’s eye. “Morning, Finch.”

Harold looked startled but did not speak. He clinched his mouth into a line and scurried to the bathroom. Reese, concerned, started to follow Finch who had his own en suite bathroom on the first floor and shouldn’t need to use the half bath when Fusco piped up. “You better get going. Roll call starts at eight.”

With a sigh John gathered his gun belt and adjusted his uniform. Reese had been in blues before, but the extra 15 pounds of gear still took getting used to. After one last look towards the closed bathroom door, Reese turned and stared at Fusco. “I don’t care if you’re asleep or not. Watch out for Harold.”

“Yeah he makes that so easy. Go.” Lionel waved his hand dismissively. “Serve and Protect.”

Glaring, Reese exited the house wishing once again that they could have brought Bear with them and drove away.

In the half bath, Harold finished drying his red face. _How dare Reese pass judgment? What did he know about living with a disability?_ Finch looked up into the mirror and grimaced. Didn’t matter. With or without the limp Harold was no prize: geeky, insular, awkward, paranoid, and old. Well, let’s just say Grace was an anomaly and leave it at that. Add to this attractive package a fused spine and a bum leg. Harold knew his limits but that didn’t mean Reese had a right to give his input on those who  have managed to make do.

Captain Starsky was probably grateful Hutchinson was alive. If Finch was correct about the history, Hutchinson was suffering the effects of aging with a compression injury from 1977. He had been pinned under his car for over a day after it rolled off a cliff. Saving his left leg was a miracle in itself.

20 years later, the blond had developed blood clots near the area of impact. Emergency surgery had saved his life but left a large portion of the calf muscle damaged. The Attorney limped but otherwise hadn’t let the near death experience slow him down. A few years after the procedure, Ken Hutchinson ran for office.

Finch took solace in the fact that a sound mind was far more reliable than a sound body. Life had its compensations. For some.

No use wallowing in self pity.

Harold heard the front door close and sighed. Facing the Detective was easier than facing Reese right now. With reluctance, Finch opened the bathroom door and stepped out. He entered the living room to see Lionel reading. Finch cleared his throat. “Detective, Mr. Reese will be back around six pm if nothing comes up. I hope you’ll be awake to greet him.”

Fusco shrugged. “Sure. No problem. You gonna nap?”

“No. I have a meeting in town. I won’t be back until after lunch. There are supplies in the fridge and cabinets. Please help yourself. I will make arrangements for our supper.”

Lionel sat up, paper crumpled in his lap. “Wait a minute. Where you headed? Reese ain’t gonna like that you just strolled out the door.”

Finch bristled. “Mr. Reese has his job and whether he likes it or not, he is my employee. Not the other way around, Detective.”

“Sure, sure, he’s mister reasonable when it comes to you these days.” Lionel shook his head and raised a hand. “So, after he smashes my face in for letting you out in the big bad world alone, what do I tell him?”

Harold opened the coat closet and gathered his bags. “I should be back before he returns and you should be asleep. He won’t call you and if he does, simply don’t answer it.” With his hand on the door knob, Finch explained. “I will be checking in from time to time anyway. I have my phone if he needs anything.” Harold opened the door and limped out. “Good day, Detective.”

The sound of the front door closing shut felt like a gun cocking to Fusco: a very big gun belonging to a badass that hated Lionel anyways. “Great. Instead of sugarplum fairies dancing in my head, I’m gonna see my life flash before my eyes.” Fusco threw his paper down on the floor with a huff.


	2. Chapter 2

The 68th precinct bustled with activity. ‘Sergeant Rodgers’ found the conference room for roll call and sat in the back. Reese wasn’t happy about the limited access to Starsky but at least he was in the same building. In fact, Starsky was sitting behind the podium upfront.

As the other officers found their seats, a mid 40’s Lieutenant reached the podium. “Alright, settle down. For those who don’t know, I’m Lieutenant Halt. Sign in then listen up. We have a few transfers then the Captain would like to speak to you.”

John signed the clipboard when it was passed to him then waited. In short order the Lieu started calling out the names of the transfers. Reese stood when they got to Rodgers.

“Rodgers here is a former Green Beret. He served in Iraq, discharged with honors.”

The group applauded as Reese sat back down with a sigh. John was going to have a few words with Finch after this. Having his cover closely resemble Reese’s own past was convenient but came with baggage.

“We appreciate your service Sergeant. Glad to have you on our team. Now a few words from your Captain.”

The lieutenant stepped back and Starsky came forward smiling. “I’d like to welcome everyone. I’m Captain David Starsky; you can just call me Cap or Starsky. You all should have your assignments. Partners for the transfers are temporary. They’ll show you the ropes but after a week, you’ll be switching out. After a month I’ll be taking suggestions from both the new guys and the old timers.”

Starsky’s eyes got far away, his tone softened. “Your partner is everything out there: Your back-up, life line. It’s not something I’m going to take lightly and neither should you.”

He cleared his throat and continued louder. “So, unless you just hit it off first time out, take some time to get to know all those you’re teamed with. Everyone has a partner except Rodgers. Looks like you’re odd man out. Don’t worry though; I have a special assignment for you. I’m sure you’re all heartbroken to learn you won’t be walking a beat, but I hope this will make it up to you. See me in my office after.”

Starsky turned. “Lieu, they’re all yours.” The Captain walked to the back of the room.

“Alright, dismissed!” The lieutenant barked.

As everyone gathered their gear and started chattering, Starsky called out. “Hey!”

The assembly froze and looked at their Captain who said. “Let’s be careful out there.” Starsky exited to the collective groan of his men.

Reese snorted and went after him.

It didn’t take much to find the Captain’s office. Once inside, Reese decided it would be easier to excuse his standoffishness by hiding behind military protocol. If Rodgers seemed to offer little personal info it could be attributed to his army mentality. That way Reese could concentrate on the number not the precinct scuttlebutt.

Captain Starsky was leaning against his desk speaking to a tall officer in his 50’s. The fruit salad on his uniform was impressive but paled in comparison to Starsky’s or even John’s to be honest.

Starsky looked up. “John Rodgers, I’d like you to meet Peter Harrelmen, our Deputy Chief.”

John shook Harrelmen’s hand then stood at attention.

Harrelmen looked at John. “At ease Sergeant. We’ve a special assignment for a man of your capabilities. We’ll be wanting you to shadow Captain Starsky.”

 _Well played Harold_ , John thought and raised an eyebrow.

“I’ve received some threats.” Stated Starsky as he handed Reese a file. “Deputy Chief Harrelmen here seems to think I need protection.”

Harrelmen sighed. “Dave, you better than anybody should know these things can get out of hand.”

Reese raised his head from the file. “He’s right, sir. What does your partner say?”

Harrelmen interrupted. “Former partner, he’s a Councilman now.”

“I haven’t wanted to alarm him.” The Captain shook his head.

Reese glanced at Harrelmen then Starsky. “Shouldn’t we check him out? After all it’s usually the spouse.”

Harrelmen took a deep breath and crossed his arms, glaring at Reese. “So, you’re well informed. Is that going to be a problem?”

Reese sighed. This was getting pretty old. Considering Reese was Bi; gay panic wouldn’t be an issue. “In the service I’ve always been more concerned with my teammates screwing me over, not who they screw. Anyone willing to gear up and walk into combat with me, man or woman, can suck as many dicks as they like.” After a beat, John returned to attention and added in a low voice, “Sir.”

The Deputy Chief looked pole axed but the Captain only laughed hard. “Yeah, it’s been my experience that you’re too busy keeping your head on your shoulders to worry about whose giving head.”

“You served, Sir?”

The Captain nodded. “‘Nam, two tours.”

Reese shook his head. “Nasty.”

“Wasn’t a picnic in Iraq either?”

Reese angled his head towards the Captain an inch or so. “Heat is one thing, sir. Humidity and jungle rot is another.”

Starsky sat behind his desk with a snort. “As for Hutch, we were on the job together for 15 years. Ten before we ever became… more. There’s no need looking in that direction. If Hutch wants me dead well…” Starsky blinked and dipped his chin. “I’d rather **be** dead.” The Captain raised his head. “So, look over the threats and consider yourself my bodyguard for 10 hours a day. My schedule will be your schedule.”

The Captain opened a desk drawer and pulled out a pager. “If I get a call to roll out after hours, this will contact you.” He handed the old fashioned device to Harrelmen who passed it off to Reese. “Shouldn’t be a problem since you bought the Parson’s place across the street.”

Reese attached the pager to his over full belt. “Had to get two roomies to make the payments, but yeah it’s a great neighborhood, Sir.”

“We moved in around ’92, after my Ma passed.”

Reese bobbed his head. “Sorry to hear that, Sir.”

“Yeah… So, you stick with me. A Captain’s life isn’t all shoot outs and glamour. I’m not as young as I used to be but I can take care of myself. You’re here to ease the brass. Hutch is still licensed to carry. We mainly stay in most nights.”

Starsky looked towards Harrelmen. “If for some reason I leave the house I’ll be sure either Hutch or Rodgers is with me. Is that going to soothe their feathers Pete?”

“Dave.” Harrelmen sighed. “Yeah, that should shut them up. What you have to understand is you stand for something to a lot of people.”

The Captain placed a pair of half-lens glasses on his nose and peered over them. “What I understand is a lot people get to trot out the resident ‘Jew Fairy’ and pat themselves on the back. ‘Look how progressive we are?’ Any other concerns are simply about stats and budgets.”

Starsky started reading a file as Harrelmen looked uncomfortable.

“I don’t think that’s true for everyone, Sir.” John spoke up at parade rest. “As I understand it, you grew up here. Now you’re the Captain of the precinct with a reputation for honest dealing. Every time you walk out your front door, those kids who think they are stuck here with only the gangs to look forward to, they see you. The brass might just be covering their collective asses but your neighbors, me included, would really lose something special if anything happened to you, Sir.”

Harrelmen smiled and made his escape. Starsky stared hard at John then sighed. “You seem to know a lot about me, Rodgers.”

John nodded. “Yes, Sir, I make a point of knowing as much as I can. I can do it, but I hate going in blind.”

“You’re not in combat anymore son. You can relax a little.” Starsky smiled.

“Yes, Sir, I’ll take up some light reading.” Reese raised the file in his hand and sat.

The Captain snorted than began to sort through his day planner.

Just over the Brooklyn Bridge, Finch, now Harold Quail limped into the exercise room. Everyone in the room was over fifty and stretching.

A perky silver headed man in an electric blue runner’s outfit with a name tag clapped his hands. “Alright everyone! Places!”

The class including Finch formed rows of four facing a wall of mirrors. The azure incased instructor took the front. “We have a new member and I want to take a minute to go over his needs and meet the class. Everyone this is Harold Quail. Harold, could you come up front please?”

Not liking the attention, Finch gritted his teeth and lumbered to the front.

“Hi, Harold, would you like to say a little about yourself?”

 _No_ , thought Finch, but he smiled and raised his voice. “I’m Harold Quail. I’m a market analyst for IFT.”

Harold turned to the instructor. “I’m Sheldon. Sheldon Pierce. You can meet everyone after class. We usually all take lunch across the street. It’s Vegan but unbelievably good. Tell us what your injuries are so we can make sure you won’t overtax yourself.”

Mouth set in a line, Finch sent a mean thought to Reese. ‘ _Bet you wish you were here_.’

“My spine has been fused and my neck has metal pins which limits my upper body considerably. My right fibula was shattered to such an extent it had to be splinted with metal.”

Someone in the back whistled as Finch looked to Sheldon. “Wow. How did this happen Harold?”

“I was in a car accident which propelled my body out the wind screen. For some reason, I pivoted, catching my right foot under the seat. The force of the crash pulled me through the window, splintering my fibula as I twisted in mid-air. Breaking thru the glass broke my neck and falling to the road destroyed my back.”

Sheldon blinked. “How are your hips?”

Keeping the tone as impersonal as he could, Harold explained. “As long as I keep my spine and neck straight I can crouch and kneel fine. I can do pushups and rotate my ankle about 30 degrees left or right. Too much weight on my right side puts a strain on my leg, but my hip joints rotate well.”

“Ok first rule is- If it hurts: Stop.” Sheldon took a deep breath. “If anything we do starts to hurt your injuries, raise your hand so I can tailor my routines. Second rule is- If you get tired: Stop. We are trying to strengthen and exercise here. You’ve already been through PT and probably have all the range of motion you’re going to get. We just want to make sure you keep as much mobility as you can. You know the saying: If you don’t use it, you lose it. Ok, return to formation and feel free to ask the person next to you if you have any questions. We’re pretty informal here: Just us old buzzards trying to keep up with the spring chickens.”

Harold returned to his spot as the instructor put them through some easy stretches. The man to Finch’s left had an artificial leg below the knee. To Harold's right, stood Councilman Kenneth Hutchinson.


	3. Chapter 3

Walking through the front door of their own little three bedroom, two story house at the end of his second day of watching Starsky fill in forms was a relief. The snide, “Welcome home, honey!” from Fusco did not help John’s mood. Not seeing Finch at all for the second day in a row as he ate supper turned the meal to ash in his mouth.

Fusco gathered the dishes and sauntered to the sink. “I’ll wash, you dry?”

Ignoring the question, John stood and asked. “Where’s Finch?”

Lionel filled the sink and added dish soap. “He’s been in his perch since he woke up.”

Puzzled by Harold’s absence, John’s eyes narrowed. “So, he’s awake?”

“Yeah, he has his computers set up. All ready to go. It looks like ‘War Games’ in there.”

Indignant on Harold’s behalf, and considering that not even Reese had stepped into that sanctum, John ground out, “You went into Finch’s room?”

“Hey, you said to watch him.” Fusco, with hands covered in suds, turned to look at Reese. “Besides, I had to make sure he was awake.” Lionel twisted back to the sink. “He didn’t take offense. Why should you?”

Reese turned and walked angrily down the hall off the kitchen to where Harold’s master bedroom and en suite bath lay. Once at the door, John faltered. He needed to see Harold. Touch base, talk, just be in his presence. But Reese couldn’t let Finch know that.

God, it hurt, this longing to be near a man who walled himself off from all humanity. Harold wanted nothing more from Reese than a weapon to be used when needed, then turned off, forgotten until needed again. Reese wanted so much more. He wanted to hold Harold, to ease some of his burden. To love him.

These thoughts were not helping. John wasn’t going to grow old in his own little yellow house with Finch. He needed to remember that. All of these feeling were useless. Less than useless, since Finch would probably limp away in disgust if he knew. The distrust, revulsion and pity that would be on Harold’s face would break John into little pieces. Those pieces were barely being held together after Jessica 's death by the hope, purpose and friendship Finch had given him along with a job. To lose Harold now would be a wound John couldn’t survive.

Reese knew that his own inability to speak his heart had resulted in losing Jessica. The opposite seemed to be the case with Finch. Speaking his heart would take away his last ties to this world. Reese needed to calcify himself against Finch. In order to keep Harold, John would need all his training to seem disinterested.

Cold.

Blunt.

Detached.

As the calm, dispassionate veil descended over Reese, he knew that later, alone in his room, whatever hurts he caused Harold by this behavior were going to bite him in the ass- or the heart.

Reese knocked.

Finch answered. “What can I do for you Mr. Reese?”

John walked deeper into the roost to see Finch at his monitors. The set-up was similar to his desk at the library. “Just wanted to say hello, give you my report.”

Harold turned towards John. “Unnecessary.”

Finch stood and ambled over to a dresser on the far side of the queen size bed. “Once you paired Captain Starsky’s phone at roll call yesterday, I had the system record everything you picked up. I reviewed the tapes and feel I’m up to speed. I’m listening in on the house right now.”

Harold removed his cufflinks and opened the top drawer to lay them inside. “Why don’t you and the Detective relax? He can join me in surveillance after you go to bed.”

Reese took up residence in the Queen Anne chair near the nightstand. “Relax? How do you suggest I relax with Lionel? Hmm?”

John angled his body in a slouch that still allowed him to make eye contact with Finch. “Chess?” John asked dubiously.

Reese smirked at the frown that bloomed on Harold’s face. He continued, “I know, Trivial Pursuit. That won’t be much fun since he’s about as challenging as a toddler.”

Radiating disapproval, Finch began the awkward task of removing his jacket. “Read a book, Mr. Reese. Watch television, if that’s your pleasure.”

The fastidious man wrapped the garment around the curved shoulders of a wooden valet to the left of the dresser. “Or perhaps you could shine your boots and ready your gear. It doesn’t matter.”

With precision, the tech genius carefully rolled up his left sleeve to bare his arm. “Relax however you wish.”

The glimpse of skin and hair below the elbow made John swallow hard. He was transfixed by the rituals being performed before him. Would this be how Harold undressed for his lover?

Reese shifted in his seat. _Cold and detached,_ John reminded himself. “I’ll do that. How are you going to relax Finch?”

Harold lifted his head and stared at Reese, only to lower it and start on the other sleeve. John smiled in a lopsided fashion. “Hoping Starsky’s feeling frisky so you can get a little thrill?”

All movement by the dresser stilled. Finch raised his head to pin Reese with a hard glare. “How dare you.”

Reese was bewildered as Finch continued in a hiss. “How dare you.”

The smaller man burned with fury. “I’m sure I may seem pathetic and humorous to you, but understand that regardless of my monitoring the populace, I have **never** done so for personal gratification. Now get out!”

Stunned, John stood and stammered. “Harold I…”

“GET OUT!” Finch repeated loudly as he reached for a hard pillow off the bed and hurled it at Reese.

Fusco popped through the door as the pillow bounced off John’s chest and landed on the floor. “Everything ok in here?”

His face red, Finch took a deep breath and looked at Fusco. “Mr. Reese was just leaving.”

John practically stumbled out of the room, passing Lionel on his way out the door. The Detective stepped toward Finch. “You sure you’re ok?”

The ruffled man pulled off his glasses and began cleaning them with his hankerchief. “I’m fine Detective.”

Drying his hands on his pants, Fusco looked back at the door. “‘Cause it didn’t sound like it.”

Harold replaced his glasses and walked over to his desk. “I am fine, Detective. Please try to enjoy the rest of your evening.”

Finch sat and began to type, not looking at Lionel. “At ten p.m. you can take over listening duties.”

“Sure. Ah, if you need anything I’ll be in the kitchen.”

Harold stopped typing and turned to look at him. “I don’t need a sentry outside my door, Detective.” The little guy shifted back toward his monitors. “Mr. Reese would never physically harm me.”

“Right, ‘cause you were getting along so well just a minute ago.”

The Brooklyn man turned to head out. At the door he stopped and spun around. “You do know I have a name, right? Not just a title?”

“Yes, Detective, I am aware you have a name.”

As Lionel started to cross the threshold, he heard Finch say. “All four of them, to be precise.”

Detective Fusco cringed.

Upstairs in his bedroom, John was pacing angrily. _God Damn it!_ He hadn’t meant it like that. He was just teasing Finch. _Fuck!_ Well, no need to worry about Harold thinking John cared about him. Finch probably wouldn’t even speak to him for the next two weeks. _Shit!_

He hated this, hated the need to keep his distance. Hated the necessity of hiding how he felt. Most of all, John hated how easily he’d slipped back into predator mode. He tried to keep himself out of that mindset around Finch.

The former agent never wanted to see the look of fear in those eyes that had pierced him in the hotel room when they’d first met. The body slam against the corner must have been excruciating, but Finch had only raised his chin and pledged his unfailing honesty to Reese. Harold must have been certain John was going to snap his neck.

As John’s appreciation of Finch grew, that spark of fear that the smaller man couldn’t hide started to haunt him. When that appreciation had turned to friendship, then love, John had tried his best to lock those feelings away. He had needed to hold himself back and succeeded in alienating his friend even more. _God, this was Jessica all over again!_

Reese slammed his fist against the wall, pulling the punch at the last second. The last thing he needed was an injury sidelining him in the eyes of the Captain. It wouldn’t matter that John could shoot just as well with his left. A broken hand would get him riding a desk in seconds flat. He might as well go shower, than get in bed.

Angrily, Reese gathered his toiletries and slipped into the bathroom at the end of the hall that he shared with Fusco. He scrubbed himself vigorously and without much consideration. His mind was preoccupied with strategies on apologizing to Finch in such a way that Harold would forgive him, but not know or suspect how John felt.

With no solution in sight, Reese dried off and dressed for sleep. His bed was firm and comfortable, but thoughts of Finch were swirling in his head. The indignation, shock and fury on Harold’s face this evening had brightened his eyes to a crystal blue. The flush of anger had painted his cheeks with a ruddy glow. Compressing his lips in outrage had swollen them to an enticing crimson. _Damn it!_ Even when furious at Reese, Finch was alluring!

How love sick was John going to get? Reese imagined telling Harold he was beautiful when he was angry, and snorted. Clichés and endearments; John had it bad.

Thoughts of Harold at bedtime were not a good idea. Reese carefully adjusted his swelling cock through his boxers. _Just go to sleep Reese_.

John tried counting sheep. When that didn’t work, he tried listing ammunition caliber sizes. No matter what he tried, images of Finch would creep up and pool all his heated blood to his crotch. _You are not going to do this_ , Reese admonished himself. _You need sleep and your mind clear_.

He tried turning on his side. The change in position caused his erection to slap against his thigh. He tried lying on his stomach. That just put pressure on his cock and made him grind it into the mattress. _Damn it_ , he thought as he flipped onto his back. _Ok, just get it over with as quickly as possible and go to sleep_.

John raised his right hand to cradle his neck and started rubbing his stomach with his left. It felt like a violation to use Finch this way. Jessica was out of the question. Guilt, shame and self disgust were one thing, add in the gut wrenching despair and helplessness that memories of her invoked and Reese would be looking to wrap his hand around a bottle rather than his dick. So, Finch it was.

John decided on his favorite fantasy and got comfortable. His mind began to spin its tale.

_After over a year of looking, Reese has finally found the home of his elusive boss. Finch’s nest, in John’s mind, is a near carbon copy of the house he had shared with his fiancee, Grace. John supposes the style would be appealing to Finch. It might also allow Harold to feel close to Grace. Either way, Reese lets himself inside as quietly as he can. A piano playing ‘Prelude in C Minor’ by Rachmaninoff can be heard faintly throughout the house **.** _

John moved his left hand to massage his swollen cock as the images pictured in his head solidified.

_The house is tastefully appointed: elegant furnishings to reflect the sensibilities of its owner, books covering every available wall space. A few statues, figurines and lithographs scattered artfully here and there as Reese follows the sound of the piano._

John’s breathing began to quicken as he slowly lowered the waistband of his shorts.

_Turning a corner brings Reese closer to the melody surrounding him. The playing grows louder and the decorations become more personal; a photo of Harold and Nathan Ingram smiling, framed articles about IFT, a birth announcement for Will Ingram. Confronted by a closed door, Reese hears the piano playing stop. Holding his breath, Reese carefully places his right palm against the door panel. The playing resumes; now the piece being performed is ‘Fantaisie Impromtu in C Sharp Minor’ by Chopin._

John gasped as his hand encircled his erection giving it an experimental stroke.

_Cautiously, Reese turns the knob and gently opens the door. As the music swells around him, Reese sees Finch in profile at the piano across the room. Harold is dressed casually in khakis and a tan cashmere pullover with the sleeves pushed up to expose his hairy forearms._

John’s breathing started coming faster as his left hand began to move up and down his shaft.

_Harold continues playing as if he has not noticed the arrival of the intruder. His back is straight but he keeps swaying to the music and arching his wrists to reach each note. The effort causes his biceps to bunch and relax._

John’s hand grew tight as his speed increased.

_Reese slowly steps towards the music and Finch. He notices small beads of perspiration dotting Harold’s brow and cheeks. The concentration and movement needed to keep playing has been an effort. His face is flushed, lips puffy as if biting them in preoccupation._

John clenched his teeth as a powerful surge of ecstasy lit up his spine. Years of barracks living had taught him to never make a sound no matter how good it felt.

_As Reese gets within five feet of Finch, he notices for the first time that Harold’s eyes are closed. The hands playing the haunting melody are dexterous and strong. Lithe fingers are honed from decades of keyboards and circuitry. Elegantly tapered yet boldly masculine digits glide across the black and white keys._

John exhaled a shuddering breath and twisted his fist around his engorged cock.

_The piece ebbs and flows around them. John purposely telegraphs his steps. The noise is perceived by Finch and he stops playing._

John’s rhythm stuttered. His breath whistled slightly through his teeth.

_Slowly, Harold turns his entire upper body to glance at the source of the disturbance. When his eyes meet John’s, he smiles._

His faltering strokes assailed John with sensation. With a ragged intake of air, he brought his right hand down to caress his testicles.

_As the smile grows to a grin, Harold says in a sweet, low voice. “Welcome home, John.”_

John’s entire body clenched hard. His fist furiously pumped his cock as convulsions rippled through his being. Jaw shut tight to hold in any sound, John’s chest heaved as streams of semen gushed over his knuckles.

Gasping, Reese picked up the towel he left under his pillow and cleaned his hands and genitals. The waves of euphoria swept across his body and lulled him into a stupor. Right before he fell asleep, John wished he could see Harold smile at him like that. Just once.

~ ~ ~

**_Author's Note_** : The piano pieces Harold plays in John's fantasy are from the televison show Lost. First piece was performed by Ben Linus (portrayed by Michael Emerson) right before Keamy's men attacked the compound. The second piece was played repeatedly by Daniel Faraday and once by Jack's son David.


	4. Chapter 4

Reese stood by the parking space, surveying the crowd while Starsky parked his red phallic symbol. The Captain shut the engine off and Reese opened the door. The whole time, Reese scanned the crowd from behind his sunglasses for anything suspicious.

Starsky retrieved his briefcase from the back and shut the door. “Why don’t we just carpool? For god’s sake we live across the street from each other.”

John placed his left arm around the man as he ushered them both into the precinct after their morning meeting downtown. “You know why. Same car, especially that car would limit our options and make you an easy target.”

Starsky grimaced. “You know? You and Hutch would get along. No appreciation for a fine automobile.”

Reese laughed softly under his breath. “I like a fast car as much as the next guy but I hate making it easy to be blown up. Besides, that kind of car only impresses other guys.”

Reese signed them both in as Starsky greeted the desk sergeant. Cutting the exchange short, John guided them forward. “Fine for you, but a straight guy wants to get a chick, preferably not the jailbait that would be impressed by that paint job.”

“Hey!” The Captain stopped in the hall, mock indignant.

He began walking again and in a low voice continued. “And I’m not gay.”

Reese gave Starsky a doubtful look over his sunglasses.

The Captain huffed. “I’m not! Hutch is.” He shrugged. “I just fell in love with the big, blond Blintz. That really messed with my head for a while there.”

John’s eyes made contact with Lieutenant Halt’s across the squad room and they both nodded in acknowledgment. “You don’t think you both might be Bi? I mean, Hutch was married.” Reese turned his head to meet Starsky’s eye. “Twice, right?”

“It’s really creepy how you know so much. Yeah, he was married. Both times it was a disaster.”

Reese paused at Starsky’s office door, drew his gun and opened it with the Captain well out of range.

“Nancy, his first wife is still alive.” John said as he advanced in the room, seeing no one. He swept the office as Starsky popped his head around. John motioned him to enter and asked. “Do you think she might be behind this, to get back at Hutch?”

As John opened every drawer in his desk, Starsky sat on the couch, amused. “She’s a sixty-eight year old great-grandmother in Duluth, Minnesota. Last time we visited Hutch’s family, she was still glad about how things worked out.”

“If you’re sure.” Reese gave the all clear and stood at attention. “What’s on the agenda today, Sir?”

The Brooklyn native grinned at the formal charade. He and John had gotten to know each other a bit in the last two days and the Sergeant had relaxed, when they were alone at least.

He placed his briefcase on the desk and opened his day planner. “Motor pool visit.” He tried to visit casually with each section of the precinct at least once a month to keep up with his men.

“Then a budget meeting. Funs-ville.” He raised his head to look at Reese. “Lunch? You want that taco place on 67th?”

John removed his sunglasses and placed them in his breast pocket. “You mean that trailer run by Alonso? Yeah, the chimichangas were fabulous.

“Great.” The sexagenarian beamed like a kid getting a present. “Hutch never lets me eat at those places and the Chiefs think it’s a health hazard. Pussies. You have to build up a tolerance.”

He dipped his head. “Finally, I’ve got to go through some reviews. Check up on the detectives with any open cases.”

Starsky came around the desk, preparing to leave for the motor pool; John stepped in front of him. Reese laid both hands on Starsky’s shoulders and made him look John in the eyes. “Ok, remember, stay close.”

Sharing ten hours a day for two days with David Starsky had given Reese a glimpse of this fiercely dedicated yet amazingly childlike and flirty man.

John didn’t want to see another good cop taken out. “If I tell you to move, you move. Do not under any circumstances try to help anyone. Ask me or another officer to assist; including old ladies or hot assistants. Got it?”

Double checking that Starsky would listen this time and not help pick up some lady’s dumped purse, John waited for his nod.

Reese began the process of getting the Captain to the other side of the building. “I want you within arm’s length at all times.”

“Do I need to warn Hutch there’s competition?” Starsky wiggled his eyebrows at Reese.

Reese made a soft grunting noise in the back of his throat. “Yeah, as your dinner companion.”

They were in the hall and passed the squad again. John turned a corner and in a hushed voice said. “He can keep his privileges to your ass though.”

Having received the go ahead from Reese, Starsky stepped in front of John and whispered. “My ass is very sought after, I’ll have you know.”

Reese matched shoulders with the Captain as they crossed the double doors to the Motor Pool entrance. “Sought after to be chewed out maybe.”

Haughtily, Starsky said. “Me thinks the Sergeant doth protest too much.”

Any retort John might have made was lost as the Garage Chief and two of his mechanics came forward to greet their Captain. Reese felt like a Secret Service Agent standing discreetly behind and to the right of Starsky.

The Chief and Starsky were swapping criticisms on the new cruiser models. Once the old war dogs had completed their list of ‘they don’t make them like they used to’, the two grease monkeys eagerly steered them toward an older model car.

Clearly they felt the Captain would enjoy some nostalgia. Unfortunately for the assistants, the last time Starsky had been on patrol was still twenty years before this ‘blast from the past’ hit the streets.

The closer they got to the antique cruiser, the more John’s phone started vibrating. Unobtrusively, Reese looked at his screen. His earpiece was on so he knew he hadn’t missed a call.

It looked like an app to monitor wireless frequencies was going crazy. Finch had assured him that this application filtered out police, air traffic and common frequencies used by government officials. The device could be used to track those, but the phone would only alert Reese if an unusual band was being received or broadcast.

According to the app, something in this bay was searching out a special frequency. Almost like it was looking for a single signal. Oddly, the probing signal’s strength and patterns itself were those commonly used by garage door openers. So a simple door opener that uses a minimum amount of battery power was looking for a single frequency to activate it. The band being looked for was familiar to Reese. He started a search for any similar uses when Starsky’s phone started sending feedback into his ear.

The feedback and band use increased at the same rate. Finally John’s phone identified the band that would complete the remote’s circuit. It was from a Bluetooth device named “Torino75”.

John’s head swiveled to locate the Captain. With one hand replacing his phone then grabbing his gun, the other pulled Starsky to him as he hit the deck yelling, “Bomb!”


	5. Chapter 5

At a Vegan restaurant improbably named _Mrs. Lovett’s_ Ken Hutchinson watched the little man named Harold Quail fidget and sigh for the fourth time in five minutes.

“Something on your mind, Quail? I’m a good sounding board and practically a stranger. What you say here will not get back to anyone.”

Harold whipped his head up. The nervous eyes behind his glasses darted around noticing that the café had cleared of the lunch crowd, including their class. “I..I don’t know if I can, or should say anything. It’s nothing really.”

Ken nudged his lunch companion’s good leg with his own. “Come on, it’s just us old birds here.”

A lopsided smile appeared on the billionaire’s face. “It’s my… housemate. He seems to be going out of his way to be crass and crude. He said something last night I won’t repeat, but which startled me into throwing a pillow at him.” Finch looked straight at Hutchinson. “I assure you, that reaction is one I seldom experience regardless of the provocation.”

Ken nodded. “You strike me as a man of words, not fists. Was what he said personal or general?”

“General in statement, personal in application.”

Hutchinson pursed his lips and took a bite of his vegan quiche. “Have you been fighting lately?”

“No. We moved recently and maybe it’s the new house, but he seems so distant lately.”

The blond cut his eyes over to Finch. “Nothing about the move? No weird actions? No odd conversations?”

“Well.”

Confident now, Hutch affirmed. “I’ve taken and upheld many oaths in the last forty-four years. I can promise you I would and have gone to the wall to protect information and its source. Get it off your chest Harold.”

Ken smiled. “Can I call you Harold?”

“Yes, of course.”

Ken beamed with a dazzling grin. “You can call me Hutch, everyone does.”

At Finch’s grimace, Hutch laughed. “Or Kenneth, you don’t seem to be a nickname guy. I knew right away I could never call you ‘Harry’.” When Harold gave a pained expression, Hutch chortled.

Finch hesitated. “I hope I’m wrong. I pray he knows that anything I learn about him won’t change my opinion of him but.”

In the short time Harold had known him; the Councilman had grown on Finch. Ken Hutchinson was a paragon among men: a tall, soft spoken, handsome golden boy with a heart of a Knight of Chivalry. Intelligent, honor bound and kind. Kenneth was so much like his best friend and business partner Nathan Ingram that it made Harold’s chest ache.

Just as Ingram had done before him, Ken Hutchinson had vaulted over Harold’s defenses in a matter of moments. For a man as paranoid as Finch, to have another human being make him feel so safe, so secure, so connected to someone was a shock.

Harold decided to trust this rare feeling since the last time he trusted it, he received the greatest friend of his life. “A few days before the move John, one of my housemates and a man I consider a good friend, made a confession. He told me he was bisexual.”

“Oh.” Ken’s eyebrows rose. He had thought Harold’s problem was a lover’s quarrel considering how upset the usually reserved man was and the ambiguous use of the phrase ‘housemate’. “What did you say?”

“I told him I would hardly be disgusted by him and knew he wouldn’t try to make a pass since that would be ridiculous. He thanked me for my reaction.”

Harold shifted in his seat and pushed his salad around his plate. “I can’t help but think that his change in behavior might be a result of his regretting being so open with me.” Finch swallowed and dipped his chin. “I’m not good with human interactions. I am routinely baffled by my fellow man.”

Hesitantly, Harold gazed into Ken’s eyes. “I find myself reliving all our conversations from that moment until last night.” Finch dropped his eyes and whispered. “I am so afraid I missed some subtle clue or tell. That he needed some reassurances from me that I failed to give.”

The shorter man struggled to continue. “I would hate for John to think I have somehow slighted him or didn’t understand the gravity of his confession.”

Hutchinson let out a gust of air. “Is it possible, just possible mind you, that you dashed his hopes for a confession of your own?” Harold raised his eyes and looked puzzled.

Hutch continued. “Maybe when you said it’d be ‘ridiculous’ for him to want you, you were accidently crushing his hopes for more than friendship?”

Finch rocked in his chair and began to eat, clearly uncomfortable. “That’s improbable and impossible. John is…”

Harold groped for a way to describe Reese. “He’s fourteen years my junior, five inches taller, in excellent physical condition and has the face of a male model.”

Ken tried to smother his grin by drinking his water. “It sounds to me that he likes you and wanted to test the ‘gay waters’ as it were.”

He placed his glass down and regarded Finch with a frank stare. “Nothing you’ve said about him precludes the possibility that he wants you.”

Harold scoffed. “Don’t be absurd. I’m…”

Ken interrupted. “You’re what? Handicapped? Crippled? Broken? Old?”

The look on the other man’s face clearly stated his agreement. Hutch continued. “If he’s your good friend, a title I think you bestow on only a chosen few, surely he has looked past all that and seen the kind, sweet, brilliant, and fascinating man you are.”

Harold blushed as Ken explained. “I’ve spoken to you a handful of times, yet I’m certain you are a type of man that comes along but once a generation. If he knows you well enough to move in with you, he’d see that too.”

The taller man sat back and concluded. “A hot body and pretty face can be found any night of the week at the clubs.”

The Councilman paused to assure himself Harold was listening. “But a companion, a helpmate, a partner, is rare and should be cherished.”

Relying on a hunch, Hutch asked. “Does John cherish you Harold?”

The recluse reacted instantly. Ears going pink and a flush running down his face and neck, Finch recalled Reese panicking when he couldn’t reach Harold after the car exploded; John patiently moving his arsenal for the fifth time to ease Harold’s nerves; Reese bleeding out, at death’s door, hounded by local and federal officer; his only thought to say goodbye to Finch. The former agent had gone so far as to _demand_ that Finch stay away for Harold’s own safety.

Then of course was the fierce determination John displayed as he mowed down anyone who blocked his path to rescue Finch from Root. Finally, the hard work and diligence in training Bear to assist and protect Finch.

Harold shivered, and then sputtered. “This is ridiculous and pointless. John has no romantic interest in me. In addition, a relationship with John or anyone for that matter is not possible for me, for a myriad of reasons.”

“Because of your situation or because you’re straight?”

Harold refused to make eye contact. “That’s complicated.”

Sensing walls raising up, Hutch backed off. “I don’t mean to upset you. You don’t have to answer.”

He tried a new approach. “The next time you can speak to John alone; tell him you can’t understand why he is still single.”

Ken gestured with his left hand in a rolling manner. “Talk up all his good points. Not sexually, but as the good man he must be to have earned your trust and friendship. Then lament about all the reasons you feel you have to be single.”

When Harold raised his head, Ken continued. “That way he knows you admire and respect him but you aren’t rejecting him personally. It’s just a time in your life when you can’t be in a relationship. See if that doesn’t smooth his feathers.”

Finch nodded. “I’ll try that. Thank you.”

~At the 68th precinct~

Managing to land on the bottom, Reese rolled to place his back toward the car and Starsky to his front, under him. John turned his ear piece off as the Captain’s phone feedback began to squeal and rise in pitch. When Starsky started to struggle, the outdated patrol vehicle exploded.

Reese noticed the explosion was concentrated on one side. The side Starsky would have approached. Before the last of the shrapnel landed, John was assessing the situation. Sophisticated, focused explosives combined not with a timer or a manual remote, but a Starsky-specific trigger. This allowed for precision in eliminating a particular target without needing to be in line-of-sight or on location.

“All Sound and Fury.” Reese murmured into his earpiece in case Finch had heard the explosion. It was their code to let the other know they were fine but couldn’t talk. It kept Reese free from needing to call in. The realization came to John that he probably had no back-up listening in, only the help from his fellow officers.

“That sure as hell didn’t signify ‘nothing’.” Starsky cried as he tried to get a look around. “What the fuck just happened?”

“Don’t know, don’t care.” John rasped as he hauled Starsky bodily off the floor. “The officers can figure it out.” Reese hustled them across the room swiftly. “I need you somewhere defendable.”

“We need to see who got hurt!” the captain protested.

John maneuvered his number out the doors with a firm grip on his arm. Hoping one of the cops in this precinct wasn’t the bomber, Reese assured, “Your men can do that.” They had thought the threat was from outside the precinct.

The motor pool wasn’t exactly the most secure area, but a device this sophisticated had to be planted by someone on the inside or a very highly skilled professional.

Reentering the hall, now bustling with officers and crew, Reese stopped with Starsky between him and the wall. He turned to the older man. “You think this was random?”

Seeing a temporary clearing, they made their way passed the squad room for the third time today. “Anyone else getting threats you know about?” John barked.

Out of breath, the Captain stuttered. “No but…”

The younger man yanked Starsky forward, a stern expression leaching all the earlier playfulness out of his features. “But nothing.”

They entered the office again, same routine as earlier with Reese checking the room. “You stay here until someone you trust gives his report.”

“Damn it, my men!”

“Your men need to know you think they have your back!” John said as he pushed Starsky down into his chair. “You are much more helpful to them in here.” Reese moved to the back door, securing it. “That way, whoever set off that bomb has to try it one-on-one.” He moved to the windows and carefully looked out. “Fewer casualties and no more surprises since we know now they really are after you.” Satisfied, Reese walked over to the desk. “Do you want me to contact Hutch?”

The older man exclaimed. “No! God no, he’d freak!”

“Doesn’t he need to know, to up security? I mean when you are at home and I’m not there he’s the one who is covering you. He’ll need…” Reese stopped at Starsky’s expression of guilt. “You didn’t tell him, did you?”

“I didn’t want to worry him.” Starsky hurried to explain. “You have no idea what he’s like. On the job he would risk his life for anyone. But the people he loved?”

The Captain ran his left hand over his face and sighed. “God, he’d go through hell for a hooker with a heart of gold. For me? He’d create hell on earth to save me.” He shook his head firmly. “I can’t do this to him, not again. He has a bad leg and his back has just gotten worse. His heart…”

Tears welled up in his eyes and the older man raised his head to look at Reese. “God, that great big beautiful heart of his, it was damaged during the California plague in ’77. We thought it was a miracle he survived.”

Starsky lowered his head and swallowed hard. “I thought I got the antidote to him in time.” That curly head swayed side to side and he wiped his eyes. “He’s had ‘episodes’. We thought it was just age.”

Hands that had once been steady when facing wars, assassination attempts and death now trembled. “He fainted and we took him to the hospital; Congenital heart failure.” Starsky looked up again. “I can’t do this to him.”

John snarled. “You selfish bastard!” Reese took a knee and glared at the other man. “If Hutch loves you half as much as you seem to love him, then he deserves to know!” The younger man grabbed Starsky’s shoulder and shook him. “How do you think he’d feel if these assholes succeed on his watch?” John dropped his hand.

In a low voice he continued. “No matter how difficult it will be to see Hutch tear himself apart to save you, he has the right to protect the man he loves.” Pictures of Jessica flashed briefly across the former agent’s mind. Then the image of Harold with Brad Jennings, the US Marshall searching for the wife he abused, burned itself behind John’s eyes. “No one should be kept from saving their loved ones.”

Reese swallowed. “No one.”

The man pretending to be Sergeant Rodgers stood. “The fact that he loves you gives him the right to protect you. You tell him tonight or God help you, I will.”

John turned his back to Starsky and ground out. “It’s his right.”

Defeated, Starsky agreed. “Ok. Yeah, ok.”

~ ~ ~

**_Author's Note_ ** : Mrs. Lovett was the name of the Meat Pie Shop owner from Sweeney Todd. She made pies out of the people Sweeney killed. Which is a hilarious name for a Vegan Cafe.


	6. Chapter 6

 

Seven p.m. found Fusco and Finch pacing the living room. They had reviewed the tapes and heard the explosion. They knew Reese was alright, but during a bathroom break, John had recorded his concerns on the identity of the bombers.

Now faced with the possibility that Reese truly had no back up in the precinct, Harold was reconfiguring the stake out. Reassigning Fusco to the 68th was out of the question. Carter was a homicide Detective, not a bodyguard.

The billionaire was not only worried about Reese and their number; Finch couldn’t bear to put Kenneth through the pain of losing Captain Starsky. The gentle Councilman would never recover from such a loss. Harold’s heart clenched with the knowledge of what Hutchinson would be experiencing. _No, we have to keep the Captain safe, even if we have to kidnap him_ , he thought to himself.

To that end, both Lionel and Harold were monitoring Starsky’s ride home. The Captain reluctantly agreed to drive John’s _Ford Focus_ with a minimum of fussing. This meant that anyone seeing Reese coming into the neighborhood would think it was David Starsky.

Should their number make it home tonight, he had a confession for his lover. Again, Harold’s heart went out to Kenneth. The Councilman’s whole world was wrapped around Starsky.

Although he never even hinted at the true nature of their relationship, Hutchinson’s feelings for the Captain were as plain as day if you weren’t prejudiced by Kenneth’s tender yet powerful masculinity. It was a wonder they remained in the closet up until his run for Councilman five years ago. The blond man practically radiated love and joy when he spoke of his ‘best friend’.

Finally the wireless bug transmitted John and Starsky’s arrival across the street. Finch had taken Fusco over earlier to Ken’s house, sweeping for explosives or listening devices. Harold monitored Hutchinson’s position while Lionel did a check.

According to John’s conversation with the Captain, Starsky wouldn’t survive losing Hutch. So, an assassin had only to take out Kenneth to drive David to despair. A fate was worse to the Captain than his own death, according to Reese.

They heard Hutch asking Starsky about the change in vehicles. Then the Captain asked John to excuse them. Reese crossed the road and made his way into their house.

Harold stood frozen and stared at John. Finch wanted desperately to hug the former agent and fuss over him. He knew Reese wouldn’t stand for that, so Harold resigned himself to pleasantries. “You seem no worse for wear Mr. Reese.”

The taller man smirked. “Ducked just in time thanks to your signal monitor. Thanks.”

Fusco stepped forward. “So the Captain’s ok? Didn’t break a hip or anything right?”

Reese answered. “Well Lionel, you almost sound concerned.”

“Ay, you didn’t grow up in my neighborhood.” Fusco gestured with a finger. “Michael Starsky was a fuckin’ legend.” The Detective punctuated this statement by slamming his fist down on his own thigh.

Pointing two fingers at Reese, he continued. “He’s the reason I wanted to be a cop. His Mom was a Queen where I’m from and his Dad a genuine God Damn Cop’s Hero. Anything happens to him and I can’t visit the old neighborhood, ever.”

Slightly taken aback by the Detective’s vehemence, Finch spoke up. “While all that is reassuring, we need to rethink our strategy. This operation hinged on the fact that the 68th would help Mr. Reese protect Captain Starsky. Events have shown us that their cooperation might not be forth coming.”

Not wanting to put Reese in a subordinate position in front of Lionel, the recluse looked towards Reese as if asking for permission or orders. “I propose we sleep in shifts, and I will start monitoring Mr. Reese whenever he escorts the Captain.”

John nodded. “They showed their hand today. They’ll probably make another attempt. Try to circumvent me.”

Satisfied, Finch continued. “I’ll trust your judgment. If and when you wish to simply pull Captain Starsky and go to a safe house, I’ll have arrangements all prepared. I would suggest taking Councilman Hutchinson as well. If the Captain thinks he is being separated from his lover he may balk.”

And Kenneth would be frantic with worry over a missing Starsky. The blonde’s heart might not take that: figuratively and literally given his health.

“Sure.” John said than dropped his head. The younger man seemed almost bashful. “Now that we have a plan, may I speak to you in private?”

Finch nodded and started for his bedroom.

The Detective stepped in front of Reese, however. With a hand on the former Agent’s chest, Lionel asked. “You ain’t gonna upset him again are you?”

Reese growled. ”What’s it have to do with you Lionel?”

The Brooklyn man held his ground. “Looking out for Mr. Glasses there means not letting anyone, including _you_ ,” the detective punctuated this by tapping the taller man’s chest, “mess with him.”

Having made his point, Fusco took a step back and removed his hand. “Besides, of the two of you, he’s the polite one.”

Reese held Fusco’s eyes for a few moments to reestablish some dominance. John knew he was being predatorial, but Finch was _his_. Lionel was just an asset.

With a brisk nod, Fusco stepped out of the way completely and John went to Harold’s room.

The older man was standing once again at the dresser clear across the room. John hated to see any signs that Harold was uncomfortable with him. “I want to apologize for last night.”

At Harold’s visible signs of relief, John explained. “I honestly didn’t mean it that way. I know you would never spy on someone for personal gratification. I meant it would be hilarious to see you blush and try to monitor the house but give two old war dogs their privacy.”

Finch snorted and Reese stepped closer to the bed. “I do think you’re funny though. You have a dry wit that catches me off guard most of the time. And some of your own unguarded moments make me laugh. Not at you, but at your reaction. You can be quite fussy and prim. It’s adorable really.”

Harold’s wide, shocked eyes made John hurry on lest he prove to Finch how adorable he thought the billionaire really was. “I don’t think you’re pathetic. I think you are one of the strongest men I’ve ever met.

Harold recovered himself and made to sit in front of his computers. “Hardly, Mr. Reese.”

The younger man swallowed. “I’ve been through some bad injuries, nothing permanent like yours. But god, sometimes after PT, I’d want to curl into a ball and cry for my mother.”

Finch turned his entire body to sit sideways in his chair to face Reese as the other man persisted. “I may not know the full details of your situation, but I can generalize. After your accident, as you lay in a hospital or clinic, not knowing if you were ever going to walk, you still managed to save and protect the woman you loved.”

They both avoided eye contact for a moment. Reese made himself go on. “Even when they put you through hell in physical therapy, when your body would ache and spasm, your breath would hitch so bad you’d want to cry, you never once contacted Grace.”

John’s heart ached with an illogical yearning to have been there for Harold. To take care of a man he hadn’t even known at the time. “You knew that the comfort and support you were craving was just a phone call away, but you didn’t make that call. You were alone in the world, dead to everyone and everything that a person needs to cling to at a time like that. You pushed on. You did it.”

Reese refused to let the tears that threatened show. “You kept Grace safe when you were broken in body.”

John couldn’t control the break in his voice as he said. “I couldn’t even keep Jessica alive, and there wasn’t a damn thing wrong with my body.

Finch licked his lips and spoke softly. “Apology accepted.”

The billionaire continued when he saw Reese relax. “You weren’t this understanding when you explained to Detective Fusco how…cumbersome dealing with a crippled partner could be.”

“You heard that?” John blanched.

At Harold slight nod, Reese shook his head. “Jesus, I’m sorry. That is definitely not how I really feel. I was trying to get under his skin. I needed to know that Starsky’s relationship with Hutch wouldn’t tempt Lionel to turn the other way and let whoever’s after him succeed.”

This idea and John’s use of Kenneth’s nickname startled Finch. “You thought he’d do that?”

Reese shrugged. “It’s happened with cops before. When an officer suspected of being gay needs back-up, the other guys don’t show up or just delay until the cop is good and scared. They want to teach the fairy a lesson. They even have a name for it: Code Pink.”

Reese sat at the foot of the bed near Finch. “Listening in on the domestic situation, it was going to be obvious they were a couple. In public, Starsky could put up a front, but we were listening to them at home.” John placed his head in his hands. “I couldn’t leave you alone with Lionel unless I was dead sure he would be able to help you.”

John looked up. “What would happen if you went to the bathroom and Fusco decided that Starsky didn’t deserve back-up? You’d blame yourself if anything happened to him. I couldn’t risk that.”

Reese quickly laid his hand on Harold’s knee then removed it just as quickly. “I just don’t think I could take watching you drown yourself in guilt.”

Harold shifted in his seat. “Fusco hasn’t earned some trust after all his assistance?”

Reese leaned back and crossed his arms. “Some, but not that much; I trust him to be scared of my wrath so that he’ll protect you.”

With a frown, Harold asked. “What will he need to do for you to see that he’s changed?”

John shrugged. “That might never happen.”

Finch was offended on Lionel’s behalf. “That’s unfair!”

“No, it’s not.” Reese leaned forward with his hands on his thighs, an intense and fierce expression hardening his handsome face. “Lionel had a good job, a wife and kid, and he decided to join HR. He wasn’t desperate, or threatened. He joined the ranks of evil not by accident, not by giving his faith to superiors who betrayed him. He went to the other side because it was easy. He had everything, and he chose to betray all that for personal gain and personal loyalties.”

Finch sighed. “People make mistakes John.”

Harold opened his arms helplessly. “Sometimes people have to see their world crumble around their ears before they truly realize their wrongs. Are you saying you can never forgive Fusco?”

Finch lowered his arms and whispered. “Never forgive me?”

That startled Reese. “Whatever you think you’ve done, regardless of the guilt you have, I know you.”

The former Agent locked eyes with the recluse. “I know you’re a good man who tries his best to make the right call. Maybe you feel that you have something to atone for. Maybe you do. But regardless of what evil deeds are in your past, I am certain you performed those acts with the _best_ of intentions.”

Reese scooted forward, knees almost touching Harold’s. “I don’t think you assassinated an insurgent in his home in front of his children, only to later find out he owed money to the cartel that bribed your handlers. I do think that you honestly were trying to protect people and had hard choices to make.”

Again John briefly touched Harold’s knee. “You have nothing to atone for in my opinion.”

Astounded, Finch gasped. “You don’t even know what I did.”

John leaned back. “I know the kind of man you are. I know that nothing you could have possibly done equals the pain and suffering you’ve endured from your injuries and the guilt over the irrelevant list.”

Speechless Finch contemplated the dichotomy of John Reese. He couldn’t forgive Lionel Fusco being tempted by HR but gave the Billionaire carte blanche.

Quietly Harold said. “Well, thank you.”

John gave him a short nod, “I’m sorry I keep putting my foot in my mouth. I’m trying to stay military and professional with Starsky, and some of that barracks talk is leaking over to you.”

Finch straightened in his seat. “I’m not some innocent school Marm, Mr. Reese.”

“I just don’t want any of my filth to sully you.”

With a small smile, Harold murmured. “I’ll try not to wear white then.”

Reese smiled back and rose to leave.

Before the taller man opened the door, Harold called out. “You’re a good man too, John Reese.”

The former Agent turned to look at Finch. After a beat, Reese opened the door and stepped through.

When he was almost out of earshot, John mumbled. “Just not good enough.”

*~*~*

Hutch let Starsky enter the house first, then closed the door. “What’s with the sedan? Not your usual ride, Babe? And who was that behind the wheel of your baby? You barely let me drive the Mustang.”

Starsky turned weary eyes to his partner. “Hutch, we gotta talk.”

Heart sinking, Ken Hutchinson went to his lover. “What is it? What happened?”

Starsky patted Hutch’s arms. “Sit down a minute.”

When they both got comfortable; Hutch on the couch, Starsky sitting across from him on the coffee table, the brunet began softly. “I’ve been getting death threats.”

Hutch jerked back. “What? What kind? Is it about us again?”

Starsky clutched at his partner’s hand to soothe him. “No. They claim I’m on the take and have been since I was a kid,” the Captain huffed. “They say I’m in the pocket of Vic Humphries of all people.”

Hutch scooted closer to his lover. “That’s absurd. Vic died in prison thirty years ago. Why…” The attorney petered out and stared bewildered at his partner.

“I thought it was just bunk. That’s why I didn’t tell you. The Brass took it seriously and asked a new transfer, John Rodgers, you just met him,” Starsky gestured to the front door, “to shadow me. He’s former Special Forces, Green Berets. He’s good, even lives across the street.”

Forty-four years by this man’s side, thirty-four of them as his lover, gave Hutch the advantage of knowing Starsky better than he knew himself. “What aren’t you telling me?”

The brunet sighed and took a deep breath. “Today when I visited the Motor Pool, a car I was looking at exploded.”

Hutch grabbed at his partner as if the danger was here with them now. “Starsk!”

“I’m ok!” The captain soothed. “Rodgers figured out they were using my Bluetooth signal to trigger the bomb and got me down long before the car blew up. I’m fine. No one died; just a few minor injuries. People listened when he shouted ‘bomb’, thank God.”

Kenneth patted Starsky down as if he could see injuries the entire squad missed. Hutch felt that little prickle up his neck. It told him that something was still being left unsaid.

So he decided to go fishing for it. “Sounds like you got to know him pretty well for just having met him this morning.”

The guilt that contorted Starsky’s face confirmed the prickle for the millionth time.

“That’s the other thing.” Starsky hesitated. “Rodgers was assigned to me Monday morning.”

Hutch felt like punching him. “What? Starsky that was three days ago! How long have you kept these threats from me?”

“Three weeks.” He admitted. “I didn’t want to worry you. I didn’t think they were serious.”

Hutch gulped and whispered. “Well, they’re certainly serious now.”

With tears budding around his eyes, Hutch croaked. “How could you lie to me?”

Starsky was stricken. “I didn’t lie.”

Angry now, Hutch slapped at Starsky’s hands weakly. “Don’t you dare try to wiggle out of this!” The blond pointed his finger at his lover. “I’m the only lawyer in this house. God Damn it!”

Anger vanished when Ken thought of how close to losing Starsky he had come today. Weren’t they too old for this? “What are we going to do? I can’t help you.”

Hutch’s breath stuttered as well as his voice. “I, I c-can’t have your b-back this time Babe.”

_Shit, made him stutter,_ thought Starsky. “It’s gonna be alright Blintz. I promise. I’ll be careful.”

The Captain shifted to the couch so he could hold his partner and reassure him. “Rodgers is right across the street. We don’t exactly paint the town red anymore. You have your Magnum.”

“Yeah and how am I going to aim it with a bum leg? The recoil will probably take my back out.” Hutch’s pain and uncertainty bled into his voice. “Starsky?”

“It’s ok.”

The Councilman grabbed at his lover and tried to bury himself in the Captain’s chest. “I can’t lose you. I can’t!”

Starsky gulped at the pain he was putting Hutch through. Again. “You ain’t gonna lose me, partner. Never!”

The Brooklyn native shook his better half. “You’re stuck with me ‘til the end, Blondie.”

With Starsky’s uniform muffling him, Hutch said. “I’m going to hold you to that.”

“Do anything you want as long as you still hold me.” Starsky smirked.

Hutch snorted and looked up into Starsky’s face. “Did those lines ever work?”

Crystal blue eyes burned into Hutch’s face as David Michael Starsky stated solemnly. “Not on the one who really mattered.” Starsky cupped his lover’s face with his palm. “I love you Hutch.” He gulped and through a tight throat managed, “A whole bunch. I ain’t never gonna do anything that might take me away from you. I need you.” Carefully and with a reverence that hadn’t dimmed in thirty years, Starsky kissed Hutch.

Breathless from the worship in a simple kiss, Hutch whispered against Starsky’s lips. “Love you back partner. Don’t ever leave me. I couldn’t… I just couldn’t.”

Fueled by just the thought of losing this man that was more a part of him than even his own name, Hutch ravaged the brunet’s mouth. His hands tangled themselves in the curly mop that had welcomed him every night for three decades, long before the silver started running wild.

As the passion between them heated up, Starsky broke away and gasped. “Bedroom Blintz, now! I need you.”

Across the street, Fusco grabbed Reese by the arm and exclaimed. “This thing got a mute button?”

Gesturing to the single lap top that Finch supplied for living room surveillance, Lionel continued. “Cause they’re about to go at it and I don’t want to hear.”

“Calm yourself Detective.” Harold walked over to the computer and connected earphones to the unit.

Fusco scowled. “Easy for you to say! ‘Sweating to the Oldies’ don’t exactly turn me on.”

This was too good to pass up, John thought. “Really Lionel, I thought you could use some pointers.”

Fusco narrowed his eyes at Reese. “Come on. You telling me you want to hear two geezers getting some?”

The former CIA Agent got right in the Detective face. “Got some homophobia there Fusco?”

“Get out of here.” Fusco laughed. “I’ve been a cop twenty years. Girl on girl is the best thing man invented and any gay guy is less competition but,” Lionel put a hand on John’s shoulder, “I might need to look the Captain in the eye one of these days. Know what I mean?”

Hoping to avoid more male posturing, Finch called out. “It’s done Detective. We will need to keep a close eye on the house and patch back in every three minutes or so.”

Fusco grimaced. “Do we have to? I respect the Cap but I don’t need to know what he sounds like when he’s getting it on.”

Finch looked nonplussed and a bright red blush spread across his cheeks. Clearly the idea of listening in to Hutchinson’s private moment with his lover embarrassed him.

Reese let out a breath and said. “I’ll do it.”

In their little yellow house, Starsky led Hutch to the master bedroom. The light from the hall was all they needed to make it to the bed they had shared here for twenty years. Starsky carefully laid his precious cargo down on the king sized mattress and climbed on top. Gently, the brunet started kissing that neck that would distract him even across a squad room full of cops, even after nearly forty years.

As he unbuttoned Hutch’s dress shirt, Starsky remembered watching Hutch rub his collarbone in thought during stakeouts. Sweat would pool in the hollows of his neck and entice a very confused Starsky. Pulling the shirt off, Starsky once again thanked God for the beautiful man who bared his very soul just to love a little Jewish boy from Bensonhurst.

Quickly, with little care for buttons, the Captain sat up and ripped off his uniform coat and undershirts. Desperate to feel all that still golden skin, Starsky held Hutch close. They rubbed together so tightly every curly hair on Starsky’s chest tickled and teased Hutch’s nipples making the blond gasp.

Hutch was no passive flower. The Honorable Councilman started scratching lightly at his lover’s back. Careful yet passionate nips to Starsky’s shoulder caused his lover to writhe and press his growing arousal against Hutch’s hip.

After one good hard grind, Hutch asked. “No little blue pills tonight Babe?”

Starsky started working his partner’s pants and boxers off those long legs. “No. Just want to hold you close. Let us both know we still have each other.” The brunet quickly worked off his own inconvenient trousers and briefs. He covered the entire body of his aging Adonis. “Still ‘Me & Thee’ Babe.”

Hutch groaned as the sensation of Starsky’s erection stirred his own arousal. “Love you, you mush ball.”

“Love you so much sometimes it scares me.” Starsky stated between kisses and nips at Ken’s neck.

Hutch tipped his head back and pushed his pelvis up with his good leg to get closer to Starsky. “Scared you enough in the beginning.”

The pair began to writhe against each other in earnest. “Yeah, young and stupid that was me. God you feel good Babe.” Starsky panted.

Across the street, Reese was grateful that Finch and Fusco had decided to make supper. Tears rolled down John’s face and he quickly dashed them away. The vast magnitude of emotions he heard from the two men cut him like a double edged sword.

It made Reese determined to keep them together. Love like that should be sheltered and protected. It also caused a fierce and unfair jealousy to rage in his chest. Why couldn’t he have that? Why did they get thirty years of loving, laughter and joy? Just the idea of being allowed to _hold_ Finch in his arms made Reese’s breath hitch in his chest.

He knew he was violating Starsky’s privacy, but on his second three minute check-in, the closeness and tenderness of the two men drew him in like a beggar pressing his nose against a restaurant’s window. Ever looking in, always separated from even the basic necessities, he listened to their sighs and gasps.

In between the sounds of love making, the men would talk and laugh. The easy give and take of the encounter was beautiful. Most people knew the fire that can burn between lust filled bodies, but few knew this kind contentment and comfort. It was something hard won and fiercely guarded. You had to work at it every day. Never take it for granted.

Starsky and Hutch had worked at their relationship every day. Through gang wars, criminals, assassination attempts, girlfriends, gay panic and gay bashers, to break through to the other side honed sharp and bright like a blade. Nothing and no one could separate them. Not even death, if their files were to be believed.

Envy was a seldom-seen visitor to Reese. John envied them though. What was it Finch had said? ‘I had four years of happiness. Some people only get four days.’ These two struggled and won four decades.

Four days with Jessica had sustained Reese for ten years. What would four days with Finch do? John knew they could carry him on for a lifetime, yet the chance of having even that brief long weekend was slim; perhaps even nonexistent.

If that life was lost to him forever, Reese was more determined than ever to see that kind of life exist for each and every number Harold and The Machine gave him. He may have thrown away his own happiness never to be recovered or recreated, but he’d be damned thrice over before he’d see another person lose theirs.

*~*~*

**Authors' Note:** The Starsky and Hutch theme song changed every season. According to The Wikipedia Gods: Quote: "For the third season, a more dramatic theme was used that highlighted the show's move to more socially-conscious and light-hearted stories. It was written by [Mark Snow](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/wiki/Mark_Snow) and released on an LP around 1979." Weird. I guess he was a failed composer before he joined the Agency. No wonder he's so bitter. lol

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

Reese got himself under control. The three of them would need to eat in shifts or have the monitor turned up loud enough to hear at the dinner table where Harold insisted all meals be taken. Thinking of Finch’s rules, all proper and fussy, made Reese smile. 

As John was finishing with the earphones, the front doorbell rang. Reese gripped his pistol and cautiously peeked through the blinds, seeing Carter. The tall man opened the door, as Finch and Fusco made their way into the living room. John was peripherally aware of Lionel surreptitiously shielding Harold while holding his own gun ready. Maybe Reese needed to reevaluate his opinion of Fusco. 

“Welcome to our humble abode, Carter. What brings you to Brooklyn?”

The lady’s eyes grew wide and she turned a glare on Fusco who squirmed and mumbled. “Oh, um… Carter called when she heard about the bomb and said she was coming over.”

“Thanks Fusco.” She huffed as she walked in.

“We got busy!” Lionel defended.

Carter smirked. “Yeah, with the Bolognese.”

Wounded Sicilian pride had to be defended. “Ay, it’s Salmoriglio.” 

Carter rolled her eyes and grumbled. “Figures it was food with you.” 

“Can I help it if the little guy can get the freshest swordfish steaks in the tri-state area **_and_ ** knows how to marinate them?” Lionel was truly bewildered at Carter’s attitude.

Finch cut his eyes at Fusco. “Yes, well thank you Detective but as colloquial as you can be, I would prefer you to limit your more colorful terms for me. What can we do for you Detective Carter?”

She shrugged. “With the heat that came down today, I thought you might like another pair of hands.”

Harold tipped his head in acknowledgement. “That is generous of you detective, but we would not wish to take you away from your family or work.”

She shrugged again. “Taylor’s on a field trip until Sunday night and I am desk bound since my partner is away.”

Lionel smirked. “Some of us are luckier than others, Carter. Jealousy is so unbecoming.”

“Supper is almost complete if you would like to join us.” Finch turned to Reese. “John, I have the transmission coming in through our phones so no one will need to be away from the table.”

Fusco leaned over to Carter. “How come he gets a first name?”

Confused, Carter shook her head at Fusco. “What?”

*~*~*

Everyone took a seat around the small dining table in the kitchen. The swordfish was accompanied by asparagus, red and yellow peppers, zucchini, yellow squash, potatoes and red onion, all grilled beautifully with a zesty marinade. The reserved Salmoriglio sauce was tossed over conchiglie or shell pasta. It was difficult not to smile at Fusco and Finch bickering over the food and wine like a middle aged married couple. Who knew the two would bond over cuisine? 

Harold got his way on the wine by simply being the only one who could afford to have a vast knowledge on the subject. He decided to go for a simple and traditional white Vernaccia Di San Gimignano. Everyone had a water glass with lemon to keep them sharp should Starsky need them. One glass of wine wouldn’t dull anyone’s reaction time. 

Reese pretended to give his complete attention to his earpiece. When in reality he was observing his dining companions. This was the first time his partner and both assets had been together in something resembling a casual atmosphere. John wasn’t sure how the others interacted with Finch normally, but both Detectives deferred to the older man: respectful yet playful. 

Lionel had displayed over and over again a protective stance with Finch. When Harold had been kidnapped, Fusco was the most visibly agitated. The ferocity in which the Brooklyn man had pursued every lead and dogged Root’s steps was only eclipsed by John’s own. Yes, Harold’s earlier words in regards to Fusco came back to him. He might indeed need to give the man some benefit of the doubt.

Carter’s attitude was always professional and zealous, but she had been keenly aware of John’s feelings of helplessness during the search. Tonight, Reese observed Joss treating Harold with tender respect. Finch’s own fierce chivalry demanded he stand whenever Carter rose; this prompted the lady to go out of her way to remain seated. The strain of asking Reese or Fusco to get something for her rather than stand herself was obvious to John, who was grateful Harold wasn’t made to strain his injuries time and again.

It struck the former agent that here before him was a rag tag group of tentative friends, or at least brothers in arms. He wouldn’t go so far as to say “family,” but at least he knew that if anything happened to him, Carter and Fusco could be counted on to check in with Finch from time to time. It was a maudlin yet oddly reassuring thought. 

The meal was delicious and quickly drew most of Reese’s attention as Starsky and Hutchinson were finishing their own supper. He wondered if it would be uncouth to use his bread to sop up the remnants of sauce on his plate when Fusco spoke up. “Dessert is a real treat; some Danish dark chocolate truffles and Scotch Whisky.”

Reese sat up as he noticed the bottle of MacCutcheon Scotch whisky on a tray with four tulip shaped glasses, a pitcher of room temperature spring water and four Knipschildt truffles plated with doilies.

As Fusco passed out the chocolates, Finch rose to carefully pour an ounce of scotch in each glass explaining. “The tulip shape helps capture the aroma of the drink, and it is recommended to add clear spring water about one fifth to bring out extra flavors and scents.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Fusco said as he made to down his glass.

Reese stopped his hand. “No you won’t. Finch, that’s $120 an ounce.”

Carter jerked up, startled. “What?” 

John continued. “And those truffles run you about $250 apiece.”

Joss looked at her chocolate. “For a Bonbon?” 

Lionel fidgeted. “Um… you want us to split one of these four ways?” He hitched his thumb over his shoulder towards the freezer. “I mean, I got ice cream on the way back from my Ex’s.”

Harold was not happy. “Mr. Reese, it is highly improper and distasteful to discuss money.”

Carter pressed her lips into a line. “Only for people who have it.”

Finch held his arms out wide to include the assembly. “Please, everyone… Lionel, Jocelyn.” That got everyone’s attention. Harold flushed slightly and adjusted his glasses. “We have a rare opportunity to partake of something precious: each other’s company. To mark this occasion, we can share in a dessert that is almost as valuable. Please. Join me.”

Finch sat and watched Carter take a small bite of her truffle. Her eyes widened. “Oh my god!”

Fusco jumped back like the confection might bite him or hand him a bill. “What?”

Carter’s eyes had closed shut in bliss. “If chocolate could have an orgasm.”

Harold blushed, dropped his head and used his knife to slice a tiny piece off his truffle.

Lionel shrugged and took a small sip of his whisky. He smacked his lips. “Damn that’s smooth. Too bad I got the night shift.”

Pleased by his guests’ reactions, Finch lifted his head towards John. “Go ahead Mr. Reese.”

Reese smirked and lifted his glasses slightly to toast Finch. “I already knew it was good Harold. Just making sure the locals knew it too.” _And that they knew all the trouble you went to_ , thought Reese.

Finch nodded and swallowed his own sip of liquid platinum. “Exactly how are you aware of these delights?”

Reese picked up his truffle. “Had a mission with a cover that allowed me to glimpse the finer things in life.”

Fusco snorted between bites. “Your tax dollars at work.”

Noticing Carter had finished her scotch yet still had half a truffle, Harold said. “Please, Detective, have another if you wish,” indicating the bottle.

She smiled and tilted her head to the side. “Would love to but I got to drive home.”

Finch looked at Fusco, than back at Carter. “Lionel will be monitoring all night. I can prepare his bed if you’d feel safer staying the night.”

_ That’s two Lionels, one Joss and one John _ , thought Fusco smugly. “Yeah Carter, just don’t let anyone see you in the same clothes tomorrow.”

“I’ll just tell them I woke up in your bed.” She snorted. “That’ll help my reputation.”

Lionel grinned broadly. “I don’t know about yours, but it’d do wonders for mine.”

“Children.” Finch warned disapprovingly. “Are you staying Detective?”

Carter flashed a smile at Reese. “Sure.”

“Here…” Harold moved his plate over in front of Joss. “I can’t finish mine and I only sliced off a small piece.”

“Finch, it’s divine.” Carter couldn’t imagine anyone willingly denying themselves this sinful pleasure. “Why can’t you finish?”

Harold tipped his scotch into John’s glass. “Those who lead a more sedentary life need to watch our calories. Please don’t let this scrumptious confection go to waste.”

“Since I’m sharing my bed,” Fusco said with a fork heading towards Carter, “you can share Finch’s truffle.”

John’s smile faded as he watched Harold start for the stairs. All that trouble and expense to only have a sip of whisky and a sliver of chocolate. Reese suspected Finch was worried about mixing alcohol with his night pain meds, as well as calories that weren’t easily walked off. _Damn_. Now the crazy stubborn recluse was going to tackle the stairs and change the sheets on Lionel’s bed; the perfect host. 

John quickly intercepted the smaller man and volunteered for the housekeeping duties. Hoping to misdirect Finch, Reese asked for a new surveillance schedule now that Carter could listen in during the day.

Harold eyed Reese for a beat then nodded. When Finch was out of sight, John let out the breath he held. It was going to be an interesting night.

*~*~*

** Author’s Note ** : The dinner shared can be recreated using this marinade [ recipe.](http://italianfood.about.com/od/saucescondiments/r/blr1742.htm)

Dessert really can’t be duplicated. One reason is that MacCutcheon Scotch is a fictional Whisky from the show ‘Lost’. Another reason is that the truffles really do cost $250 apiece, making the chocolate $2600 a pound. They are [Madeleines](http://www.knipschildt.net/la-madeline-au-truffe.html) created at Knipschildt Chocolatier in South Norwalk, Connecticut.


	8. Chapter 8

“Councilman? A Harold Quail is here to see you.”

Hutch looked up from his desk at Mrs. Levinson, his administrative assistant. “Really?” 

The blond stood and walked out his office. “Harold!” 

He greeted the younger man cheerfully and made to shake his hand. “What a surprise! I didn’t expect a visit.”

Kenneth ushered Finch into his office. The shorter man sat in one of the chairs in front of the desk and propped his ornate cane to his right. Hutchinson remained standing but leaned against the desk to face his guest, who explained. “There was a meeting of Market Analysts this side of town. Didn’t you notice the droves running in the other direction to escape the boredom?” Finch gave the councilman a small upturning of his lips, then shrugged. “I thought I might come by and see if you were free for lunch as a ‘thank you’ for yesterday.”

Kenneth sat up a bit. “Did you take my advice?”

Finch demurred. “Partially. John apologized and explained his behavior.” 

At the other man’s frown, Harold looked around the office. “If you’re busy I can lunch on my own.”

The councilman started. “No. No, I’ve been unable to concentrate all morning.” Hutch walked around his desk and looked at his day planner making some notes. “Lunch sounds wonderful. Give me five minutes.”

Harold rose and went over to the floor to ceiling bookcases that lined the left wall. “Take your time. It’s barely eleven.”

The taller man grinned at Harold’s beeline for the books. “Yeah, but we want to get ahead of the rush.”

*~*~*

“What do you mean ‘I can’t leave the building’?” Starsky cried.

“You better than anyone should know that you’re weakest when transferring or traveling.” Reese patiently explained to the man who was instrumental in forming these protocols for his own precinct. “Getting to the car can be the most hazardous. Three hundred sixty degrees of target practice.” John gently, but firmly pushed Starsky back to his desk. “No walls, no cover.” Reese planted the older man down into his chair. “Unless you want to be assigned a full guard of six men, you can’t leave.” 

Reese got within three inches of the Captain’s face to make sure he was listening. “No meetings downtown, no lunch carts, and no Doctor’s appointments.”

“But it’s my annual physical.” Starsky huffed. “I gotta take it or I don’t qualify. They’ll have to take me off active duty if I don’t.”

“That might not be a bad idea.” John straightened. “We could get you and Hutch to a safe house till we find and catch who’s doing this.”

“No way am I gonna let some dirt bag run me out of my own precinct!”

Reese pulled out his phone and smirked. “Well then, if you can’t go to the physical, we’ll just have to bring the physical to you.”

*~*~*

Finch was worried about Kenneth. The Councilman barely said two words in the town car. Now Hutchinson pushed his salad around and stared into the plate. Conversation wasn’t Harold’s forte but he had to make an effort. The strain of being away from his partner during a dangerous time was eating away at this gentle man. 

So Harold started talking. “If you don’t mind my saying, you seem out of sorts today. If you need me to reschedule, it would be no imposition.”

That brought the blond’s head up. “No. I think I need to get my head straight before trying to tackle the new crime bill. I say ‘new’ but it’s just the same bull people who live in doorman-guarded condos come up with to keep the unwashed masses at bay.” He dropped his fork and pointed a finger at Finch. “If these people ever really got down in the streets, they’d abandon their pie in the sky measures. Harsher sentences for minor crimes are just ridiculous.” 

Hutch picked up his water glass and sipped. “What we need is education and more officers walking a real beat to get to know all their people. Let them see and know the cops.” He placed his glass down. “When an officer is a part of the community, the kids feel they are being watched out for or at least have someone they can go to when things get heavy.” Again the Councilman pointed his forefinger at Harold. “Instead they cut budgets and add to the case files for the DA. So fucking stupid!”

The older man realized his vehemence was drawing stares and dropped his head. Softly he apologized. “I’m sorry. I _am_ out of sorts and it’s making me vulgar.” He lifted his head and smiled slightly. “I feel you’re not a man who talks like an angry sailor denied shore leave.”

Harold blinked and swallowed his chicken marsala. “It’s alright. Is it just the bill or is something else agitating you?”

“That obvious, huh?”

Finch sat back and sipped his own water. “You usually are very careful about your appearance, even when exercising. This morning you look as if you haven’t slept: your suit is wrinkled, there are dark circles under your eyes, and your hair looks like you’ve been running your fingers through it in exasperation.”

Kenneth grinned. “What hair?” His smile slipped into compressed lips. “No, you’re right. I got some news last night that has unsettled me.”

Wide eyed, Harold asked. “It’s not your health?” The shorter man dipped his head. “I’m sorry; it’s none of my business if it’s personal.” Harold raised his head and looked directly into Kenneth’s eyes. “I would like to return the favor though. Whether I follow your advice or not, just having someone to talk to, to trust and understand helped immensely.” The recluse dropped his gaze. “If I could do that for you, it would be an honor.” 

Ken stared at the little man’s tuft of hair. He was right. A burden shared is a burden halved as they say. “It’s my best friend, Starsky. We’ve known each other for forty-four years. We worked the streets of LA for nearly fifteen years together. He stayed with the force when we moved to New York. He’s a Captain over at the 68th.” 

Kenneth’s eyes brightened and his cheeks pinked as he smiled. “God, I’m so damn proud of him. His precinct has a well-earned reputation for honesty.” Hutch swallowed and managed to say through a tight throat. “He’s… closer to me than a brother.” 

Quietly, Finch inquired. “Did something happen?”

Hutch nodded. “Three weeks ago he started getting death threats.”

“Oh my! Why?” Harold stopped himself from reaching to touch Kenneth. “I’m sure he is above reproach if he’s so close to you.”

“Thanks.” Hutch smiled briefly at Harold. “They claim he’s in some dead mobster’s pocket, which is horseshit!” 

Kenneth took a deep, calming breath. “As bad as it sounds, we’re used to death threats. Years past it was part and parcel to the job but…” The councilman’s face contorted in shame, “physically I can’t be there for him and yesterday a car he was looking at blew up.” Hutch shook his head in pain. “I could have lost him!”

This time Finch did touch Hutchinson’s hand, if briefly. “Kenneth, I’m so sorry. Was anyone hurt?”

“Minor injuries.” Kenneth grabbed at Harold’s hand and held it as he struggled to explain himself. His gaze was far away and haunted. “This damaged old body can’t have my partner’s back. First time in forty years I failed him. I have to sit back and let other people I don’t know keep him safe.” 

Kenneth came back to himself and realized he was clutching Harold’s hand. Embarrassed and positive he had made the younger man uncomfortable, Ken let go and grabbed his phone off the table to try and regain his composure. “Every time the phone rings I jump expecting the worst, and this damn cell hasn’t rung all morning. Is that a good sign or is the fucking thing broken?” 

Hutchinson swiped his mouth with his hand in exasperation. “Jesus, I keep jumping at shadows and just want to hurl the damn thing across the room.”

Finch carefully wrapped his hand around the one Ken was using to hold the phone. He did so deliberately to somehow let Kenneth know that he wasn’t bothered by the contact. “Let me see. I’ll run a diagnostic.”

Relief washed over Hutchinson’s features as he realized he hadn’t insulted Harold. “Thank you. I know I’m being unreasonable, but I can’t concentrate with worry.”

Finch blinked into the face of his friend. As bewildering and odd as it may seem, Harold felt such an attachment to the councilman that he regretted the need to lie to him about anything. Kenneth _was_ his friend. “I don’t think it’s unreasonable to worry about someone that is important to you, especially after someone tried to kill them.” 

He dropped his head and pressed keys all over the councilman’s phone. After only a few moments, Harold popped his head up and handed the phone to Hutchinson. “Here, everything looks to be in working order. Just in case,” Finch reached into his side pocket and pulled out his own back-up cell, pressing buttons as he did so, “here’s my phone. It’s being paired with yours. If anyone calls, then both phones will receive the notification. That way if your phone malfunctions you have a back-up. This one has an antennae booster so it will give you a signal even if your phone doesn’t.”

Astonished, Hutch stammered. “H-Harold I c-can’t take your phone!”

Finch grabbed both phones and placed them firmly in Kenneth’s hands not letting go. “I’m a tech geek. I have backups, don’t worry.”

Understanding that he was being given something far more valuable than just a phone, Hutch whispered. “Thank you. You don’t know what it means. I just couldn’t survive if something happened to Starsky. I…”

Finch patted the older man’s hand and withdrew a bit. “It’s alright. Everyone is relevant to someone.” Harold looked away and swallowed. “They all have importance, but some are precious to us. They need to be cared for and protected.” He turned to once again regard Kenneth. “Your worry is justified and shows how important he is to you.”

The two men sat in silence letting the new bond settle between them. 

The smaller man grabbed his primary phone and started surfing. “Why don’t you head over to the precinct? I’m sure you won’t get any work done worrying. Just seeing him might ease your nerves.”

Hutch nodded. “That’s a good idea. I just hope he doesn’t think I’m being a mother hen.”

Finch looked up briefly. “I’m sure if the roles were reversed, he’d be camped out in your office with some excuse to keep an eye on you.” 

Hutch snorted. “Worse. He’d never let me go to the office at all.

Harold smiled. “Then just remind him how he’d feel in your situation.”

Finch stood and walked over to Kenneth to assist the older man in standing. “Go. I’ve got the check.”

As Kenneth picked up his cane, Harold stuffed a fifty dollar bill into his hand and said. “A cab will be out front in ten minutes.” 

“Harold. I can well afford…”

“I know you can.” Finch interrupted. “So can I. It was my idea. Besides, I doubt I could ever repay you for the opportunity to have a friend again.” The shorter man adjusted his glasses and looked at his feet. “I usually don’t let people get that close, and I’m the one who’s missing out.” He lifted his head. “You’ve reminded me of that. Please. Go see Starsky. We only have a brief moment with the ones we love. Don’t waste a minute of it.”

Ken held his friend’s arm at the elbow. “Harold… Thank you. Starsky. He’s more than just my best friend.”

Finch smiled. “I know.”

When Hutch gave him a puzzled look, Harold explained with a shrug. “ _Where love is great, the littlest doubts are fear. Where little fear grows great, great love grows there_.”

Taken aback by not only the acceptance from his new friend but the quotation, Hutch took a moment to reply. “Hamlet.”

Harold nodded shyly and Ken looked at this extraordinary little man who was willing to leave his comfort zone to give comfort to Hutch.  
  
Remembering what Harold said about not being in a position to have a relationship, Hutch patted the other man’s shoulder. “I’ve got one for you. ‘ _Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage_.’” With those words, Hutch pocketed both phones and made for the exit. 

Harold pondered Kenneth’s words as he sat and finished his lunch. Did he receive strength from Reese? Could opening himself up to love again give him courage? As he paid the check and limped to his car, Finch felt that he could use a little more courage in his life.

*~*~*

The cab let Hutch out in front of the 68th. The cabbie was nice and actually held the door open in front of the handicap ramp. December was hard on old bones. 

Francis Campanili walked by, a young police officer who idealized Starsky and had a younger brother attending law school who was gay. The whole family had practically adopted Starsky and Hutch. He recognized Ken and grinned broadly. “Hey! Hutch! Cap know you’re here?”

“Not yet.” The older man laughed

Campanili held his arm out. “Will it violate some guy code if I help you inside?”

“Not in this weather. Concession is the better part of valor.” Hutch took the offered arm. 

When they got inside, they were greeted by the desk sergeant and LT Halt who made to shake Ken’s hand. “Councilman! Are you here to see your better half?”

“Well, my other half.”

“I’m gonna go tell the Cap his ‘wife’ is here.” Campanili grinned and walked towards the Captain’s office.

Hutch blushed and Halt laughed. “Caught your speech last week, the one on automatic weapons control. Really moving, Hutch. Good stats, nice set up. Then the knock out: personal experience.” 

Hutch ducked his head remembering his words. How he told the council about Starsky’s shooting in ’79. He had practiced that speech endlessly in his office for three weeks and made Starsky swear he wasn’t going to be at the meeting. Even with all that, Hutch had to step down and let his administrative assistant complete the closing. 

Thirty-three years hadn’t dulled the memory of the panic Ken felt as he saw Starsky’s head cradled in the wheel well of the Torino after Gunther’s men fired round after round into the car and Starsky. 

Ken still had nightmares of running through the hospital as Starsky’s heart stopped. Only this time when Hutch ran through the double doors, it didn’t start back up. Some nights, like last night, Kenneth heard nothing but the flat line alarm and the doctors calling the time of death. 

“Hey.” Halt touched Hutch’s arm, worried about the sweat that had beaded up around Ken’s face. The clammy pale skin made Hutch look like he was about to puke. “Starsky’s gonna be ok. We got a genuine badass Special Forces war hero on him. Rodgers is as by-the-book as you guys never were. We got his back, Hutch.”

Ken patted Halt’s arm and shook his head to clear it. “Thanks.”

Shouting could be heard down the hall.

“What the hell?” Halt grabbed his gun and ran towards the sounds coming from the direction of Starsky’s office.

*~*~*

**Author’s Notes:** The quotes used:

“Where love is great, the littlest doubts are fear. Where little fear grows great, great love grows there.” _Hamlet, Act III, sc. 2_

And

“ Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage.” Lao Tzu


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Possible trigger for mild discussion of attempted non-con.

The knock on Starsky’s door cut short any reply Reese was going to make to the Captain’s grumblings. John grabbed his gun and carefully cracked the door open. 

A fresh faced boy-child in a P.O. uniform was smiling up at Reese. “Hey. Can I see the Captain?”

“What do you need to see Starsky for?”

“Come on, open the door.” He smiled and nudged the door. “The Captain’s wife is here. Come on man, let me in.”

When the boy pushed on the door harder, Reese reacted instinctively. His left hand holding the gun behind the door rose up as his right formed a fist with the thumb protruding over the top. He punched the nerve clusters between two ribs, dropping the boy instantly. Reese slipped his body through the door closing it and locking Starsky inside. 

John removed any weapons the writhing man had on him. He loomed over the screaming boy as LT Halt came rushing in, gun out. “What’s going on here Rodgers?”

“This man tried to enter the Captain’s office with a story about the Captain’s wife, Sir. He’s safe inside; secured and unharmed.”

Halt holstered his gun. “Campanili, you alright?”

Between pants the boy gasped. “Jesus Lieu, I think I’m gonna hurl.”

Halt put both hands on his hips and leaned over. “Well next time don’t charge into the Captain’s office the day after a bomb nearly blows him to kingdom come using a nickname that his guard never heard of!”

Hutch came limping up, out of breath and fearing the worst. “Is he ok?”

“Councilman Hutchinson.” Reese stepped over Campanili to shake the blond’s hand and holstered his weapon. “It’s an honor to finally meet you, Sir. John Rodgers.”

Halt helped Campanili off the floor, handed off his weapons and said to Hutch. “Captain’s fine. Campanili told Rodgers here that Starsky’s wife wanted to see him. Rodgers just transferred in on Monday to shadow the Cap and hasn’t mingled with the guys.”

“And didn’t know the precinct calls me his wife.” Hutch sighed in relief.

“That’s disrespectful, Sir.” Reese said as he stood at attention back in front of the door. “Husband is more accurate.”

Uncomfortable with the way this conversation was going, Halt said. “Go on Campanili, see the nurse.”

“Yes, Sir, sorry I…just wanted see Cap & Hutch.”

The Lieutenant turned to Reese. “You alright here Rodgers? Went a little commando, don’t you think?”

John nodded. “His alive and can walk, Sir. Must be slipping. I’ll do better, Sir.” 

Halt laughed and looked at Kenneth. “Told ya, we got his back Hutch.” Halt walked away laughing.

Reese looked at Hutch. “Here to see the Captain, Sir?”

“You can drop the Sirs and yes.” Kenneth looked the young man over. “How did you know I was Starsky’s husband when you didn’t even know I was his wife?”

John pulled out a set of keys and started unlocking the office door. “Glimpsed you last night and saw a picture of you earlier when the Captain was showing me the one in his wallet of the Torino.”

“Shows where I stand, does it not? My picture is next to that damn Tomato’s.” Hutch walked into the office to see Starsky tucking his shirt into his open pants.

At the sound of the door closing the brunet said without looking up. “What was all the commotion Rodgers? Is it my turn to play doctor with you?” 

He raised and turned his head to see Hutch standing in front of the door; alone. No Rodgers. “Hutch! It’s not what it looks like. I can explain!”

“Oh, this I have got to hear.” The blond crossed his arms over his chest looking expectant.

Starsky started walking over to his lover with his hands out in a pleading manner. “I had my annual physical scheduled today and Rodgers wouldn’t let me out of the building.” 

His opened pants slipped down, almost tripping him. “The Doc just left.” 

Starsky frantically pulled up his pants and fastened them. “I was annoyed with the whole thing. Rodgers made the Doc stand out in the hall while he went through all the medical equipment. I was just teasing Rodgers. I swear! Honest Hutch!”

Kenneth relaxed his arms and openly laughed. “It’s ok Starsk. I don’t think you’re playing doctor with GI Joe out there. It’s just fun to see you squirm.”

The Captain pouted. “Not nice Blintz. What are you doing here?”

Kenneth shrugged. “Maybe I was just in the neighborhood.”

Starsky’s face softened and he walked over to hug his lover. “Or maybe you waited until I was asleep last night to slip out of bed and worry a hole in the floor of the kitchen. Hutch, you look awful.”

Hutch closed his eyes and relaxed into Starsky’s arms. “Well, thanks partner.”

“Come here. Sit down.” Starsky guided Hutch to the couch and joined him, arm still around the blond. “Was it the nightmare? I thought you slept through the night babe.”

Ken dropped his head and stared at his hands. “I knew I wasn’t going to sleep much. I started some paperwork and fell asleep in front of the TV.” Hutch shrugged and leaned back with his head resting on the back of the couch. “Woke up with the nightmare, twice.”

“You should have got me up.”

Hutch closed his eyes and covered them with his right hand. “Why? So both of us could lose sleep?”

“Yeah, cause a dark and silent house is just what you need to calm your nerves after reliving the worst moment of our lives. Come here Blondie.” The Captain held out his arms to his friend.

The Councilman removed his hand and looked at his lover. Hutch sighed and laid his head on Starsky’s chest. Grateful all over again that he had this man beside him. “You needed sleep. I trust you to keep safe because you know how much I need you. You promised to never leave me, and I’m going to hold you to that. But you can’t if you’re exhausted babysitting me.” 

Hutch closed his eyes. “I thought I was covering for the lack of sleep pretty well but,” Ken shrugged, “even Harold, who openly claims to have no people skills, could see I was rattled.” 

“Who’s Harold?” Starsky inquired.

Kenneth opened his eyes and smiled broadly. “A very new yet very dear friend I met at the gym.”

“Where? That class you take for the fixer-uppers over fifty?”

“Yes.” Hutch said, exasperated. “My ‘Down but Not Out’ exercise group for men over fifty with a disability. Harold started on Monday. He has a fused spine and a limp. His bad leg is on his right, so we make a funny pair. His name is Harold Quail; quiet, socially awkward but with a heart as big as the sky.” Hutch smiled at the mental image of Harold. “After that first class I could tell he was trying to make a quick escape. You know what those vultures are like, fresh meat that hasn’t heard their stories a million times. They surrounded the poor guy and practically lifted him across the street to the café. He looked like he was in pain so I rescued him and we got friendly.”

“Short, mousey brown hair that he wears spiky making him look like Tin Tin, glasses, impeccably dressed with a suit in complimentary yet not matching three brightly colored pieces with a coordinating pocket square.” Ken laughed remembering. “He came by for lunch today and saw that I was upset. He listened, comforted me and even gave me his own phone as a back-up.”

Starsky nudged his lover. “Back-up for what?”

“He paired his phone with mine so that even if my phone is broken, I can still get a call if anything happens to you. He did it so fast, said he was a tech geek.” Hutch sat up to look Starsky in the eye. “He really is a great guy Starsk. He guessed about us and didn’t blink an eye.” 

Kenneth rested his head back on the other man’s chest. “Not only did he give me his smart phone but he ordered a taxi and handed me $50 for the fare. He insisted I take both because having a friend was worth more.”

Stiffly, the brunet said. “Sounds like a stand-up guy. When can I meet him?”

“Now hold on a minute.” Hutch sat up again not liking Starsky’s tone. “Harold is a **_friend_** , nothing more. He spooks easily though. It may be a while before I can prepare him for the circus show that is David Michael.” 

They both laughed

Listening through his Bluetooth, John was furious. Finch once again had taken matters into his own hands. With Reese guarding Starsky and Fusco asleep during the day, Harold had no back-up while approaching their number one suspect. No one even knew where the billionaire was. Anything could have happened.

John lowered his head and spoke into his jacket. “I hope you like your bedroom Harold, because when I get back I am chaining you to the god damn bedposts!” 

*~*~*

Finch barely had time to close the front door before Detective Fusco was all over him. “Have a good lunch?”

Slowly and suspiciously Harold responded as he hung up his overcoat. “Yes, thank you Detective.”

Lionel grimaced at the title; no first names this afternoon. “Have any interesting conversations?” 

Fusco followed Finch closely across the living room, past the occupied half bath into the kitchen. “Say, with a nice Councilman?” 

Finch whirled around as quickly as his injuries allowed and Fusco continued. “A councilman who went to go see his boyfriend today and talked about the nice little guy with glasses named Harold who was good with computers, a snappy dresser and…”

Harold raised his hand and interrupted. “Alright Detective, yes I had lunch with Councilman Hutchinson. What concern is it of yours?”

“Well, besides the fact that you’ve been having a private party following Hutchinson around without back-up?” Lionel’s tone was scolding. “If we overheard the Captain talking to Hutch, who else you think got an ear full?”

Finch’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head as Lionel nodded smugly. “That’s right. And Mr. Reasonable didn’t sound too happy when he whispered into his mic about scheduling his own conversation with you. You sure you don’t have any system upgrades that urgently need you somewheres else? Like Iowa?”

At first Harold thought Fusco was teasing him. Then Finch really looked at Lionel. The younger man was genuinely concerned that Reese might hurt him. This was the third time in as many days that Fusco had shown a protective streak in regards to Finch. 

Touched, Harold said, “Lionel,” which whipped Fusco head up so quickly it made Harold’s own neck twinge in sympathy as he continued, “While I appreciate the concern, Mr. Reese has never been violent with me; ever.” _Hotel rooms, hangovers, and handcuffs notwithstanding,_ thought Finch.

“Yeah, first time for everything.” Fusco snorted.

Before Harold could reassure the Detective, Carter came out of the half bath in a fresh outfit and looking angry. “What is this I hear about you following a suspect alone?”

“Kenneth Hutchinson is hardly a suspect.”

Undaunted, Carter put her hands on her hips and glared at Finch like a perturbed mother. “I’m sure you’re familiar with the statistics on domestic crimes; how about the odds that a family member, especially a lover, is involved in said crimes?”

Indignant and angry at the insinuation against Kenneth, Harold puffed up. “Detective Carter, while your concern is touching, do I need to point out that I do not in fact work for you? I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

The lady threw up her hands and stomped out of the kitchen to resume monitoring Reese.

“She’s just worried and probably jealous she’s not on a first name basis.” Fusco mused and boldly followed Finch into his bedroom. “You know a little guy like you; all vulnerable and unable to run away, needs someone to look out for them.”

Harold had had enough. “Little guy? **_Little_** guy! Detective, I’m taller than you!!!!”

“Yeah but I’m built.” Fusco shrugged. “Ya know, trained and all this muscle.”

The computer genius hobbled over to the Detective, getting right in his face. “You want first names Fusco? I’m sure both Carter and Reese would be delighted to learn more about their dear friend, Lionel Angelus **_Norbert_** Fusco

The larger man cringed and turned pale. “Keep your voice down.” The Detective looked over both shoulders. “Alright. You’re ‘perfectly capable of taking care of yourself’. Sheesh! Now will you keep quiet?”

*~*~*

A door slamming at 7 pm reverberated around the house and rattled the windows. 

John Reese was fuming. The glare he directed at Carter and Fusco had both detectives wordlessly pointing towards Finch’s bedroom. The former agent threw his coat on a chair and stomped into the kitchen. Without even knocking Reese stormed into Harold’s bedroom to find the older man already standing by the dresser, eyes wide, hands up, and palms forward. “I didn’t lie to you.”

John said nothing as he stalked towards the shorter man.

“What are you doing?” Harold asked when Reese was a foot away, pulling both his tie and uniform coat off.

John dropped both articles of clothing on the bed and began unbuttoning the top three buttons of his shirt. “I assume that after I get through yelling at you for endangering yourself and keeping me in the dark **_again_** … I’m fired. So, I have nothing to lose.” 

John closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around Harold. He drew the reclusive genius flush against his body. Reese angled his head to the side and loomed over the frozen and shocked billionaire. Finch was confused and tipped his head up as far as his neck would allow.

John kissed him. 

At first Harold stayed still, than a groan vibrated from his throat to tickle John’s lips. Finch clutched at the former Agent and opened his mouth. Encouraged and so very grateful, Reese swung them both around and carefully laid Finch on the bed, never breaking the kiss which had grown bold and passionate. 

Startled by the change in position, Harold drew back and asked. “What? What are you doing?” 

Reese continued to nuzzle at Harold’s neck, ignoring him. Careful to keep his hips and weight off of Finch, John began to unbutton the waistcoat, seeking warmth and skin. 

Finch pushed against John’s chest. When that failed to produce results, the smaller man firmly stated. “Stop! John, stop.” That got an instant response. 

All movement stilled and John raised his head. With red, swollen lips and flushed face, Reese inquired. “What’s wrong? You kissed back?”

“Yes, I did, but this is all going too fast.”

“Fast?” Reese propped himself up onto his elbows. “We’ve known each other for over a year. We’ve flirted and teased since almost the beginning. I’d say we were going at a snail’s pace.”

“For you maybe, but I’ve never done this before.”

“Oh!” That startled John. “Ok, first time with a man. I’ll take the big stuff slow but I need to feel you Harold. Touch you, taste you.” 

Reese started to make his words deeds, when Harold shook his head and stopped him, a bright red blush spreading from forehead to his shirt collar. “No. I’ve… I’ve never had sex…with anyone.”

Reese’s head jerked up surprised. “What? Finch you were engaged and living with Grace for four years.”

Still incredibly embarrassed, Harold said in a small voice into his own chest. “I told you, she was a very special person. She understood that I had limitations.”

Reese pushed away and sat up running his hands through his hair. “Limitations? What? Loving pure and chaste from a far? Who are you, Don Quixote?” 

As he made to angrily leave the bed, John was stopped by a desperate Harold. The older man grabbed at Reese and held him still to plead. “Let me explain! Please!” 

Reese glared at Finch only to find all the color had drained from the billionaire’s face. Harold looked terrified and on the verge of tears. Shit. Finch wasn’t joking or lying; he really was a virgin at nearly sixty! “Ok.”

Grateful, Finch let go and scooted up to the headboard, not making eye contact with Reese. “Just, please bear with me. This is difficult to articulate. I’m not good with revealing my personal history.”

_ No shit _ , Reese thought as he sat back down on the bed facing Finch. “It’s ok. Take your time.” 

John hesitated because Finch was already wound so tight, but he needed some way to remind himself that the kiss had really happened. “Can I, can I hold you? Fully clothed and hands above the waist?”

Finch smiled and held out his arms. “Please."

Not one to let an opportunity slip by, Reese gathered Finch into his embrace and took a deep lungful of the scent of the man he loved. The former agent closed his eyes as the emotions threatened to overwhelm him. 

Harold was trembling slightly. John cradled his love and cooed into the smaller man’s hair as Finch burrowed under John’s chin with eyes shut tight. The warmth from Reese’s body as well as the gentle loving touch finally calmed Harold enough to begin. “I’ve known I was attracted to men and only men since I was fourteen.” Harold opened his eyes. “As you can imagine, I was already paranoid, secretive and closed off. My orientation was simply one more wall I built against the rest of the world.” 

Finch started breathing faster. Fearing his friend might be having a panic attack; John rubbed his lips along the spiky hairline and removed Harold’s glasses.

The smaller man began to calm. “When I got to MIT, I was so lonely I decided to try dating.” He shrugged. “It was the 70’s. Certainly not an environment totally free of discrimination, but University was a time for experiments. I was respected enough for my intelligence and few ignorant bullies had the scores to gain admittance.” 

Finch trembled again but pushed on. “I meet Timothy: slightly awkward, medium intelligence for the school and inexplicably interested in me. We dated.” 

Reese started a rocking motion when Finch paused too long.

The billionaire took a shuttering breath. “I had calculated that it might be safe to try and form a relationship for the first time. I was wrong.”

John stopped all movements. “Harold?”

“It’s ok.” Finch started to rock on his own. “Let me get this out.”

John kissed Harold’s temples and rubbed his back, loathing where this was going. 

Finch continued. “At first it was exhilarating, sometimes; well most times overwhelming, but exciting. We’d sit and park for hours talking and…” Adorably Harold blushed again. “Well, you know. A small sports car with a manual transmission didn’t allow for much and we each had roommates. One day my dorm mate was leaving town for a long weekend. I invited Timothy over and in my naiveté it never occurred to me that he would think…”

Reese tried his best to control the boiling anger bubbling in his chest. “That he would think you were ready to put out.” At Harold’s nod, John said. “Finch?”

“It’s ok.” Finch pulled his face up to squint at John. “This is more after-school-special than a Jodie Foster film.” He laid his head on John’s chest and seemed to draw strength from the taller man. “Just let me get through this. As you surmised, he didn’t take no for an answer and pinned me to the bed. I screamed.” 

When John flinched, it was Harold’s turn to soothe with a backrub. “He didn’t even get one button of my shirt undone when he was lifted bodily off of me by none other than Mr. Football Star, golden boy, stereotypically most popular man on campus, Nathan Ingram; who was currently beating the shit out of Tim.” 

Finch giggled softly. “Broken jaw, broken nose, two cracked ribs. I had to pull Nathan away before he beat Tim to death.”

Reese gathered Finch even closer and growled. “You should have let Ingram finish off the bastard.” 

Harold sighed into the embrace. “Which is what Nathan said, but he was on scholarship and there was no way on earth I was going to the police.”

Harold snuggled deeper into John’s chest. “We got Tim to a hospital with some plausible story. Nathan wouldn’t let me out of his sight. He even slept in my roommate’s bed. The next morning I just wanted to forget about it, but Nathan shadowed me everywhere.” 

Laughing openly now, Harold explained. “After three days of being unbelievably rude to my savior, whom I was certain I had nothing in common with, we started a discussion on literature.” 

The billionaire stared off into the distance as if seeing through the veil of times past. “Turned out, his scholarship was well earned. He was the authority on Faulkner. Thought Tennessee Williams was God’s own Angel sent to educate the Yankees.”

Harold got quiet again. Just before Reese was about to nudge him to go on, Finch started up with awe in his voice. “For two weeks he didn’t make me talk about the attack, but neither did he leave me alone. At the end of the two weeks I had something I had never experienced before: a friend.”

Tears were in the smaller man’s voice. “Someone who accepted me in all my peculiarity, found me funny, fascinating and wonderful. He never tried to change anything about me, unless what I was doing was hurting me.”

Harold cleared his throat, “Which is why I found myself two towns over, seeing a therapist with Nathan under a pseudonym.”

John smiled. “And you fell in love with him.”

“Good God, no!”

Reese was confused. “What?”

Harold sat up and loosened the embraced to look at John. “Nathan was straight, but even if he wasn’t, I have always been thankful that I never felt a sexual attraction.”

Finch sat with his back against the headboard. “With Nathan, I found something even better than a friend or lover. I found a brother.” He gave John small shy smile. “One who was popular and special in his own right, but thought I hung the moon.” 

Finch paused again. This time not because the memory was difficult to relive, but too wonderful to rush through. “He protected me from anyone who didn’t understand me. Ruthlessly guarded my privacy and counted himself the luckiest man alive because I wanted to spend time with him.”

Harold brushed the moisture from his eyes and said, “Sex with Nathan would have felt… incestuous. Wrong.”

The little man patted John’s knee. “More importantly, Will Ingram might never have been born. I thank heavens every day that our relationship was never more.”

“He sounds like a good man. I’m glad you had someone there to look out for you when I couldn’t. But what does this have to do with your…um… lack of experience?”

Harold’s cheeks pinked up again. “Over the years Nathan tried to get me to date but... I wasn’t scarred by what happened with Timothy. Really! The therapist was very understanding and got me through it. I just.” 

Here Finch appeared to be groping for a way to explain something that few people could understand. “I reached out into a world I had always felt was vicious and cruel to try to connect with another person despite my paranoia to have my…” The recluse faltered.

Reese finished the thought, “To have your hand bitten hard. Thus justifying your running back behind your walls?”

Oddly grateful someone knew him so well, Harold smiled. “Yes, but more importantly I was an adult with no experience with sex beyond first base who had mild anxiety attacks when presented with more. I would get to a second or third date and freeze up. Sexual intimacy was painfully hard for me past chaste kissing and very light petting, even before Timothy showed his true colors.” 

Finch laughed. “Ran Nathan crazy. He was always setting me up. He knew I was still a virgin and no matter how I tried to assure him it had nothing to do with the attack, he still wished he had somehow gotten there sooner.” 

Harold shrugged. “Most men who were willing to look past my nerd exterior to date me were not patient enough to deal with a skittish adult virgin, even if I had been able to trust them with the knowledge.” 

He paused. “Then I meet Grace.”

Both men remained quiet for moment; John, out of respect for a wonderful woman who meant everything to Finch, and Harold because of the daunting task of explaining his relationship. 

Finally Harold decided to just let the chips fall where they may. “She was lovely, kind, warm and so very understanding. Absolutely no sexual attraction on my part. I am most definitely homosexual. I explained right away I was gay so she wouldn’t get the wrong idea. Our intimacy grew without being sexual.” 

Reese relaxed, and went to hold the smaller man again as he continued. “One day she had a proposal. Marriages didn’t have to be consummated and there was no one she wanted to spend her life with but me. She didn’t want children but she did want me all to herself. She figured if I was a virgin at fifty, I wasn’t going to be sowing my wild oats anytime soon. Sex wasn’t necessary but hugs, kisses and snuggles were. She asked me to marry her.”

John squeezed Harold and the older man looked into his friend’s face. “I said yes.”

John hugged Finch tighter, relieved that no one else had touched his Harold. It left fewer people he’d need to kneecap. 

“We moved in together and slowly, patiently, she introduced me to lingering hugs, casual kisses, watching television or reading a book with her head in my lap. Without the pressure of sex, I found I am a very tactile person.” 

To demonstrate, Harold kissed John and sat back into the comfort of the other man’s arms. “Nathan showed me there were good people in the world, which let me trust Grace. Grace taught me to be comfortable with touch. A gift I tried to repay by keeping her safe when it became apparent I was a danger to her.”

Finch sighed. “So, that brings us here. I have wants and desires that I have no experience fulfilling. Grace taught me to accept touch, but sex? I’m afraid I still don’t know if I will ever be able to do more than hold you or let you hold me. I also have no idea what my injuries will allow.” Finch tensed up but continued. “I completely understand if you want to forget this whole thing. Just know I am willing to try.” 

“Oh Harold.” Reese tried to speak through a choked up throat. “If we never do more than this, it’s more than I deserve or ever dreamed.”

Carter and Fusco’s voices could be heard from the living room, prompting both men to clamber off the bed, Finch with a little assistance from John. Before either one of them could get to the door, Carter burst through. “Three guys, ski masks surrounding the house. Fusco’s already on the way over.”

Reese’s face hardened as he pulled a gun from his ankle holster. He turned to Finch. “Stay here and monitor their positions. Get the safe house and car ready.”

With that, Reese and Carter sprinted for the front door.

*~*~*

** Authors Note ** : When Reese took down the Officer he used a technique called  [ Eomji ](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_Taekwondo_techniques)


	10. Chapter 10

Harold was left alone in seconds. He ambled over to his monitors. The three masked men were circling around to the back of the house. Finch placed his headset on and tapped the mic button. “Mr. Reese? Still three assailants, they have jumped the back fence and appear to be preparing to enter the house.” He closed the mic, waiting for John’s response. 

After thirty seconds with no acknowledgement, he repeated his message. A window popped up, giving Harold the notification of a signal blocker in use, one that would disable any cell or cordless phone for several blocks. On the screen, the three perpetrators were pouring liquid on the back porch. _Oh god they’re going to start a fire to flush them out._

With no phone signals, no one would be able to call for back-up, the fire department or each other. Finch stood ready to find a signal booster to overload the blocker. Before he took a step he saw Kenneth Hutchinson walk out his front door with a bag of trash in his hand. Reese and the others were getting in position to climb the back fence themselves. _Kenneth!_

Harold didn’t hesitate. He grabbed his cane and made for the door. On the porch, Finch waved his arms at Ken. The councilman waved back, his forehead creased in concentration. Harold limped across the street as fast as his injuries would allow. When he got within whispering distance he hissed. “Get Starsky and run to my house. Three men are trying to burn your house down. I have friends intercepting them. Hurry!”

Finch made sure the older man obeyed and made his way back over. He needed to monitor the team and get the signal unblocked. 

Shortly after entering the house himself, the front door opened to Kenneth and the Captain. Finch turned to greet Starsky and shake his hand. What he found was not a warm welcome but a firearm pointed at his chest held by David Starsky. 

The Captain entered the house with Hutch behind him. “Who are you and why have you been following Hutch?”

The blond looked stricken. “Starsk, he’s my friend. He’s helping us!”

Starsky moved behind Finch and grabbed his arm. With the gun pointed at Harold’s head, both men faced the door. “Friend, huh? One who happened to show up when my life was threatened? Staying in the house across the street with the officer assigned to guard me. What kind of friend is that?”

Finch stammered. “W-we mean you n-no harm. We just want to help.”

“We’ll see about that. Get behind me Hutch.” 

Kenneth made to move behind Starsky to wait for the other's to return once they discovered no one was in the house across the street. In a few tense minutes sirens could be heard off in the distance. _Reese must have turned off the signal blocker and called for assistance,_ thought Finch. He was relieved that obviously the situation was resolved. Harold prayed no one was hurt and the fire was contained. The gun never wavered from Starsky grasp as the door swung open to reveal Reese. His shocked expression was only a millisecond faster than his gun hand. 

Starsky tensed and jabbed the gun into Harold’s head, pushing it farther than the pins would allow. “Drop it John or Quail here won’t be singing anytime soon.”

John was in full panic mode. He did not even register Fusco and Carter entering the house and covering him. All he could see was the Colt at Harold’s head and the painful arching of the billionaire’s neck. “If you hurt him I swear to god I will drop you, and then spend hours watching Hutch die painfully.” 

Kenneth read the truth in the taller man’s words. What was more, Hutch knew this was John, Harold’s John. Hutch had seen the look in John’s eyes before: on his own lover’s face anytime he thought Hutch was in danger. Oh god this wasn’t going to end well. “Starsk don’t. This isn’t necessary. They’re trying to help us. We can trust them.”

David Starsky had learned to never turn his head in a stand-off so he didn’t look at Hutch but continued to stare at John. “No way. You know the only ones we can trust Hutch: Me and thee. That’s it. Drop the weapon Rodgers or whatever your name is.

Reese tightened his hold on his gun as sweat began to bead on his upper lip and brow. “Not going to happen.” He blinked quickly to clear his vision. “Captain, I respect you and want to help but if you shove that gun at Harold one more time I will shoot you.” 

Starsky snapped. “Then put it down!”

Carter looked at Fusco with dread. 

Lionel holstered his weapon and yelled. “Hey!” With his hands in the air, Fusco stepped carefully forward, making sure he wasn’t in Reese’s line of fire. “Now everyone calm down. Captain, I’m Lionel Fusco from over at the 8th.”

“We’ve met. What are you mixed up in?” Starsky ground out.

“Trying to save your ass.” Fusco huffed. “These are the good guys.” 

The Captain gave him a wolfish grin. “Oh really? Looks to me like they are trying to get close to a target.” 

John was getting edgy next to Fusco. Lionel needed to end this now. He and Carter wouldn’t be able to turn a blind eye to Reese killing a Captain, no matter what the provocation. “Or protect a target while undercover.”

“They don’t look like cops.” Starsky shook Finch slightly. “Or did Harold here fake those injuries?”

Kenneth saw Harold try to stifle his moan of pain and John tense up. “Starsky! I’ve seen the scars. For fuck’s sake listen to Fusco.”

Starsky gestured toward Carter. “You’re Carter right? Know your partner’s been under investigation about his involvement with HR?

Joss tightened her grip on the Glock. “Yes Sir. He’s working with these two trying to clean up the department.”

“I’m telling you there is no way this guy’s a cop.” Starsky gestured to Reese. “CIA maybe.”

John repositioned his feet to change his stance next to Lionel. _This was taking too long. If Finch wasn’t able to keep the pain under control, Reese was going to open fire_ thought Fusco. “Doesn’t fucking matter! That guy you’re manhandling is his partner.” 

Fusco pointed his thumb at Reese then opened his hand indicating Finch. “Harold is just as much John’s partner as Hutch was your’s in LA. Understand?” Fusco swallowed and licked his lips. “You have a **_gun_** to his partner’s head.” 

Lionel pleaded for understanding with his eyes. “What would that do to you? You gonna be all rational and willing to explain yourself?” The detective took a lungful of air. “John’s deadly and trained. You’ve seen him in action. You want to push him? ‘Cause there ain’t nothing worse you could do to him than what you’re doing right now.”

Carter lowered her gun and took a step closer. “He’s spent four days protecting you, don’t make him take you out. ‘Cause he will, with no hesitation if you don’t back off his partner.”

Hutch saw his lover soften minutely. “Starsky please, Harold isn’t involved in this attack. He tried to help us. Don’t do this Babe.” 

“Alright Hutch, for you.” Starsky raised both arms up in the air, letting the gun swivel on his index finger. “God help us if you’re wrong.”

Reese reacted instantly, grabbing Starsky’s shirt and gun, shoving them as far away from Finch as possible. “Get away from him.” 

John holstered his weapon and immediately embraced Finch, supporting his neck with one hand and caressing his face with the other. “Harold?” Reese looked into Harold’s eyes and whispered. “Are you alright?”

Finch took a deep breath and closed his eyes. The love, fear and concern he found in John’s face almost too much to bear. “I’m fine John. He didn’t hurt me.”

Reese stared at his boss with a pinched expression until Harold opened his eyes. “I told you to stay in the house.”

“They had a signal blocker. I couldn’t give you their positions. Kenneth was outside. I couldn’t risk the assailants escaping and hurting him or taking him hostage.”

“So, you get to be the hostage instead?” John’s hand shook slightly as he brushed Harold’s hair back. “Don’t ever do that to me again.” 

His faced hardened as he turned to glare at Starsky. “And you? If you ever place a weapon anywhere near Harold again, I’ll break your legs in six places.”

Having seen that moment between John and Harold, Starsky knew what Fusco had meant. John treasured Harold as much as Starsky treasured Hutch. David made direct eye contact with the man he knew as John Rodgers so the man could see his sincerity. “Understood.”

Kenneth stepped up to offer Harold assistance. He didn’t want John to see how much pain his partner was in. “Harold, let me help you clean up?”

Finch turned his torso enough to meet Kenneth’s eyes. He would need a moment away from Reese to compose himself or John was going to hurt David. “Thank you.”

Ken helped Finch move into his bedroom. Reese stood still staring after them until Finch was out of sight.

*~*~*

Ken shut the door and helped Harold over to the dresser. “So, is your name even Harold?”

Finch bowed his head as he removed a cufflink. “I’m sorry. We didn’t know where the danger would come from. We needed someone close to both of you.”

Hutch started on the other cuff. “You just go around and help strangers like some Equalizer?”

Harold gave the blond a small smile. “Something like that.”

Hutch assisted Finch to remove his Jacket. He placed it on the wooden valet with a smile. _Of course Harold had a valet_. “That make you ‘Robert McCall’?”

Finch laughed softly as he unbuttoned his waistcoat. “Not exactly, more like ‘Control’ but John just calls me Harold Finch.”

Hutch removed the vest and began to gently massage the back of Harold’s neck. “Got a thing for birds have you? How did you know we needed you?” The younger man groaned as Kenneth eased his fingers along the toughest knots. Ken smirked. “I didn’t even know about the threats. Did Fusco or Carter send you the information?”

Harold tipped his head forward, trying to get more of that delicious sensation. “I can’t tell you everything. You of all people can understand protecting a source. Just understand that we have information that Starsky is in danger. Who, where or what we don’t know.”

Hutch moved around to Harold’s front and began removing the other man’s tie. “Why can’t you tell me who is doing this?”

Without thought, Harold allowed the taller man to manhandle him out of his tie and dress shirt. “We don’t know exactly. My information is from rather murky sources. What we do isn’t exactly legal.” Kenneth started caressing Harold’s shoulders causing Finch to moan. “We gather information and try to figure out why someone is targeted. Are they the victim or perpetrator? We don’t know, but what we do know is something is going to happen. We try to be there to prevent it.”

Hutch went around to the back of his friend and massaged his neck in earnest. “So Carter and Fusco? You’ve got them involved in something that could get them thrown off the force.” 

Harold gasped and panted. It was few moments before he could speak. “We try to keep them safe and not ask of them anything their ethics can’t allow.”

Kenneth directed Harold to sit on the bed. “You do a lot of trying, ever accomplish anything?” 

As Hutch went to his knees, Finch blushed. “Our success rate is rather high.” Ken began to gently massage his right calf. “I want to thank you for believing in me when it was obvious I had lied to you. John would have killed you both.”

Kenneth paused and looked up. “He really loves you.”

Harold sputtered and blushed again. “That’s not…I mean...”

Ken stood and laughed. “It’s alright Harold. I’ve been there.” The older man placed his palm against Harold’s cheek. “Take my word for it. He loves you: completely, madly, and desperately. Now for your back.”

*~*~*

“Ok, who are you really?” Starsky demanded of Reese.

Reese made his way across the living room. “You can call me Reese or John. Harold is known to me as Finch. Carter and Fusco you obviously know.”

Starsky followed the taller man angrily. “Who were those guys and how did you know they were coming?”

Carter grabbed the Captain to stop him. “Wait, wait. Calm down.” She turned the older man to face her and away from Reese. “These two help people. They have information that we don’t. John protects people before they even know they’re in trouble.” She pointed towards the kitchen. “Finch, Harold Finch gets him the intel.” Joss shot Fusco a quick glance. “How they do that Fusco and I haven’t figured out yet. Sometimes their methods leave a lot to be desired, but their hearts are in the right places.”

John had stopped in the middle of the room at Carter’s voice. “I can’t tell you how I know you’re in danger. I can tell you we have been monitoring you and Hutch since Monday.” John walked over to the laptop. On the screen five camera angles were displayed. Starsky’s house was crawling with cops. Crime scene tape roped off most of his yard. 

“God! My house.” The Captain cried. “You’ve been watching us?” 

“And listening in.” Reese unplugged the earphones. The cacophony of police, crime scene investigators and detectives could be heard. John replaced the earphones.

Starsky got in John’s face, furious. “You heard us? Oh my god you sicko. Did you like hearing me with Hutch?”

Fusco pulled the Captain away from the deadly former agent. “As soon as you guys started getting serious we went to visual only. I swear Cap.”

“Where does Gimpy come in?” Starsky asked, indicting the direction of Harold’s bedroom.

John lunged for Starsky’s throat and glared down into his reddening face. “You listen to me you sanctimonious wind bag, if it wasn’t for Harold recruiting me, financing us and getting your number you’d be dead by now. I don’t want to hear you call Finch anything but his name or ‘Sir’ ever again. You got that?”

David coughed when Reese shoved him off. “Got it. Sorry. I call Hutch ‘gimpy’ all the time, wasn’t an insult. Little guy is tough.”

When John went for Starsky again, Lionel intervened. “Finch don’t like that name either. I haven’t tried out ‘Mr. Glasses’ yet so feel free.”

Reese went over to the closet and pulled out his duffle. “We need to get you and Hutch to a safe house. Whoever’s after you is well financed.” John checked his weapons and zipped the duffle, throwing it at the bottom of the stairs to be packed later. “Those cops aren’t getting anything out of the men we caught tonight. They were hired muscle; only told to do a job and well paid for their silence and skill.” 

“I can’t just leave.” Starsky protested. “We’ve got jobs and responsibilities.

It was John’s turn to crowd Starsky. “First rule of dodging a hit man: don’t be where they expect you to be. You’re going if I have to knock you out and throw you in the trunk.” Reese stepped into the kitchen angrily.

The Captain shook off the nerves he was feeling. “Jeeze. Tact like a rabid dog that one.”

Fusco followed Reese into the kitchen. “Hey, you can drop that sour puss anytime.”

Reese leaned on the counter in front of the sink. “I have to keep him alive, but I don’t have to cater to him. You want to make nice with him then go ahead.” 

_ When the hell did I become the ambassador for these assholes, _ thought Fusco. “He didn’t know he was hurting Finch. All he knew was this guy had been following his partner. This guy shows up just when his house is under attack.” Lionel stepped closer to Reese. “Tell me what would you have thought?” The Detective pointed his index finger at John. “Finch ain’t hurt, Starsky’s listening to you. Get your head in the game and out of your pants.”

The taller man straightened up and glared. “What exactly is that supposed to mean?”

“Please.” Fusco gave the other man an incredulous look. “You looked at Finch like I used to look at my wife when she went into the wrong neighborhood.” Lionel poked John in the chest. “You came home boiling mad this evening but I didn’t hear any yelling. Why was that?”

Through a stiff jaw, John replied. “I don’t yell at Finch.” 

Fusco snorted. “Especially with your mouth full.” When Reese made to crowd in on Fusco again, Lionel held up both hands. “Look I get it. You got a thing for the little guy. I’ve seen the looks, the intense stares when you think no one’s watching.” Fusco spread his arms out wide. “Why the hell would you ask me to follow him knowing full well he’d catch on?” He brought his arms down and raised one hand between them. “Cause you care. You want him.” 

Lionel dropped his head and scratched the back of his neck. “Can’t say I understand wantin’ another guy like that.” The Detective looked the former agent in the eyes. “But then Harold is different isn’t he? Makes you feel all protective and stuff. He’s brave, smart and funny.” Again, Fusco poked John in the chest. “But he’d be the first to say the job comes first.”

Reese swallowed. How had he misjudged Fusco so badly? “You’re right.”

Lionel was so startled he took a step back. “Excuse me?”

Ashamed of himself, John dropped his head. “You heard me. You’re right.” He lifted his head. “Lionel… I owe you an apology and no little amount of gratitude.” 

“Apology?” Lionel hated sounding like a damn parrot, but what he was hearing just did not make sense.

John shrugged. “I’ve treated you like a dirty cop and refused to acknowledge that you’ve changed.” _In for a penny, in for a pound._ “If there was anyone who could understand loyalty and finding yourself on the wrong side, it’s me.” _Here’s the hard part._ “I guess I was taking out my guilt on you and for that I’m sorry. You’ve proven yourself these past few days.” 

Reese needed to man-up and show Fusco he really meant what he said. “I appreciate you keeping Finch safe when I can’t be there. I know you do it because it is the right thing to do not just because I’ll beat the shit out of you. And thank you for getting Starsky to surrender.” 

John dropped his head again. The emotions during the stand-off returning full force making him cringe. “You’re right. I couldn’t see anything but Harold. If it wasn’t for you I might have killed the Captain. So thank you.”

The shorter man just stared for a few moments. Finally he was able to muster a reply. “You’re welcome and you’re right on a point there yourself.” John’s head came up as Lionel continued. “I protect Finch because it’s the right thing to do. I see he’s a good influence on you: better manners and more… human.” 

Fusco’s face hardened. He pushed Reese back with his own body. “But get one thing straight. I may not know what scares you but I do know you’re running from something.” His voice dropped into a deadly register never used with Reese before. “If you hurt that geeky refugee from a Dickens novel in there or get him hurt, I will find what scares you and point them in the right direction. We clear?”

For some odd reason, Reese grinned at Fusco. John patted Lionel on the shoulder and made to go to Harold’s bedroom. Before opening the door, Reese stopped and turned to Fusco. “And Lionel? The CIA and Mark Snow.”

“What?” Lionel snapped.

John just grinned again. “That’s who I’m running from.”

A bewildered Fusco asked. “Why the hell would you just hand that to me?”

There were no walls between them as Reese said. “If I ever hurt Harold or get him hurt…I know you’d do the right thing.” 

Lionel smiled and turned to think of a story for the police with Carter and Starsky. John paused and opened the door to Harold’s bedroom. The sight before him made his blood run cold.

*~*~*


	11. Chapter 11

Harold lay on his bed face down with his arms supporting his face to breathe. His coat, vest and dress shirt were off, leaving him in just an undershirt. And there was Hutch, straddling Finch as he slowly caressed the smaller man’s back. Both of their faces were flushed. John felt his chest constrict, his breath left his lungs in a rush as if he’d been punched in the gut. The prickling of tears at his eyes spurred Reese into action. He slammed the door shut and locked it. “Just what the hell is going on here?”

Both bedmates jumped. Harold couldn’t turn his head but Kenneth lifted his hands and sputtered. “It’s not like that!” 

Carefully, Hutch rolled off of Finch on to the bed. “I learned deep tissue massage when Starsky was recovering in 1980.” Slowly, Ken stood with both hands up. “Harold is having some pain and hasn’t been to PT in over three weeks.” Hutch walked over to the other side to assist Finch in sitting up. “I was just relieving some of his discomfort. I promise.” 

Gasping from the effort and the panic, Finch said, “John, he was just being a friend.”

Reese managed through tight lips, “That’s friendlier than I would think you were ok with, Finch!” 

Hutch looked at the younger man in disbelief. “Oh come on! What do you think this is some cheesy gay porn from the 80’s? You might not know me well enough, but do you really see Harold as the cheating type?”

Finch tapped Hutch on the hip. “Kenneth it’s alright. Let me talk to John.”

“You sure?” Hutch caressed Harold’s shoulder. “I don’t think you should get up just yet. Lie down with your neck supported.” He pushed and assisted Harold into an upright position with plenty of pillows to support him. “You can talk to him like that.”

Reese was getting damn tired of people feeling they needed to protect Finch from him, first Fusco, now Hutch. But the last straw was Hutch continually touching Harold. Acting like he **_knew_** Finch. And Finch, of all people, was letting him! Where was the reclusive genius who was a very private person and didn’t invite touch? “I can take it from here.”

Ken looked to John. “Sure, sure.” Kenneth raised his eyebrows at Harold. “Just… if you need me…?”

Finch smiled. “We’ll be fine Kenneth. Thank you.”

Hutch hesitated, looking to Harold then to Reese again. Finally he sighed and walked out.

Harold fidgeted on the bed, with his head down and his hands running back and forth over the comforter. “Do you really think I would betray you like that? Do you think me so faithless that less than two hours after declaring my feelings for you I would seduce a number’s partner?”

John sat in the chair at the side of the bed. “I wasn’t thinking straight. I’m sorry. I saw him touching you and just reacted.”

Harold looked up. “You’ve been doing that a lot lately, reacting.” The older man took a bracing breath. “If this relationship is going to distract you from our mission then… perhaps we should forget the whole thing. It was a bad idea, I see that now.”

“NO! Harold please!” John went to his knees and took Harold’s hand, desperate. “I’m not any more distracted now than I have ever been.” 

“Mr. Reese, you nearly shot our number tonight.”

John was so tired of this emotional roller coaster. Where was his calm? Where was the professional agent who never failed a mission? God, he needed to get himself together before he lost everything that was important to him. “He had a gun on you! I would have done the same thing yesterday or last month or last year!”

“I can’t but think it is your feelings for me that have you in such a state.”

Of course Harold would think that. John had been swinging between over reacting about Fusco, about Starsky, then about Finch himself. “Finch, Harold… you have always been my first priority. I protect the numbers only after protecting you.”

Shock and alarm colored Finch’s face. “That’s not…”

Reese held up his hand. “That is the way it has to be!” He ran his hand through his hair. “You are the only one who can continue our work. If something happens to me, you can keep going.”

“You think you’re so replaceable? John, you’re not!” Finch was horrified.

“You think you are?” Reese snapped. “I may not be replaceable in your heart, and for doubting that even for a moment I am truly sorry. But any trained agent can do what I do.”

Harold held Reese’s face in both his hands. “No, they can’t. John, you are an honorable man with deep compassion and a fine moral compass.”

“Which you can find again. I know you think I’m special.” Reese placed his palms over both of Harold’s. “To you, I am.” John removed Finch’s hands to hold them to his chest. “But what I was in the beginning, before we got close, that is something you can find again: an asset. No matter what may happen, we can never replace you.” 

He bowed his head. “That is something I found out first hand when Root took you. I guess I’m feeling vulnerable lately. This is the first time you’ve been out in the field since I got you back. That’s probably why I’m acting erratically. Not just because I love you.” He raised his head up to look at Finch. “You have **_always_** been my first priority.”

“I’m not sure I’m comfortable with that arrangement.”

Reese dropped his eyes and shrugged, not proud of himself for what he was about to say. “You looked comfortable enough with Hutch right on top of you.”

“John!” Harold was scandalized.

“I know it wasn’t sexual but you have to admit that it looked odd. You’ve never let me rub your back.” Reese managed in a hurt voice.

Exasperated, Finch explained. “Because with you it **_would_** have been sexual.” Harold removed his hands from John’s and sat back. “I am aware that I allow Kenneth more liberties than most, but it stems from a deeper connection. I can’t explain it except that I was instantly drawn to him.” 

When Reese stiffened, Finch hurried to continue. “Not like…, not like I’m drawn to you. My feelings for you have always frightened me and made me distance myself. What I feel for Kenneth… the only way I can phrase it is ‘brotherly’.” 

Harold removed his glasses and rubbed his tired eyes. “I felt the same instant bond with Nathan. I knew without any proof or demonstration that Kenneth Hutchinson would protect me, accept me and cherish me as Nathan did before him.” He replaced his glasses and took John’s hands. “I’m sorry if that threatens you in some way, but I can’t turn away from something so rare and wonderful. He is a kind and giving man who likes me. We are comfortable around each other in a way I have missed.” 

Finch tipped Reese’s chin up. “Please don’t make me leave this behind John. I miss having a friend, but I can’t bear the thought of losing you.” 

John shook his head, helpless. “I won’t. I couldn’t. It would hurt you and I have vowed to never hurt you again.” Reese stood. “I’ve been thinking of you as mine for over a year.” 

“I couldn’t take anyone touching you especially when I couldn’t.” He lifted Harold’s legs and sat on the bed, setting those legs on his lap to begin rubbing them. “I might not think you’ll cheat on me, but I don’t share well with others. Just give me some time to get used to someone else touching you.” 

He stopped and looked into Harold’s face. “And I love you so much that it is only natural I’m afraid you’ll come to your senses and leave me.” 

Reese swallowed and closed his eyes. “I don’t deserve you Harold, and I am afraid I’ll lose you once you realize that.”

“John, you deserve happiness.” Finch made urgent gestures to get John to look up. “And if you are under the illusion that I’ll make you happy then so be it. I will never leave you.”

Pained filled the former agent’s eyes. “You left Grace.”

“Not for someone else, but to protect her!”

John rose to the head of the bed and embraced his love. “Promise me you won’t do that again. If you think I’m in danger just by being near you, swear to me that you’ll let me get us somewhere safe.” Reese trembled with emotions. “Please. I can’t live with the thought of one day coming home and finding you gone, even if it were for my own good.” 

Harold took a deep breath and listened to John’s hammering heart. This brave, strong man was afraid to lose him. “I swear to you, John Reese that I, Harold Finch will stay by your side for as long as you want me there.”

Reese closed his eyes and sighed as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. “Thank you. You make me want to say something stupid and cheesy like, ‘Forever isn’t long enough’.”

Harold groaned. “That was awful John.”

Reese smirked. “Warned you.” 

John began to rub Harold’s back and shift the older man closer to him. Harold tilted his head as much as he could to accept John’s kiss. Reese groaned and opened his mouth. He needed this: to feel, taste and smell his lover. God, he wanted to bury himself in that vulnerable neck and just bask in all of Finch; here, safe, whole. 

The younger man pulled Harold on top of him. His large hands spanned those wide hips. Finch gasped and pulled back. Reese ran his lips over the neck now presented to him, sucking at the carotid artery, feeling the pulse of each heart beat on his tongue, long fingers spreading and clinching on Harold’s lower back.

Finch closed his eyes and tried to relax into the embrace. His heart began to beat wildly. A sweat broke out over his whole body. _It’s John, he loves you. He would never hurt you. He knows you can’t go too far._

No matter what Harold told himself, he couldn’t get the irrational panic to subside. Finally John’s hand moved to Finch’s ass and the recluse cried out. “Wait! Stop please!”

Reese stilled and looked at Finch, whose face was red and glowing with sweat. “I’m stopping. See?” He raised his hands back to his lover’s lower back. “No more movement, but I’m not letting you retreat into your shell.” He rubbed soothing circles into the tense muscles he found. “Now what has you spooked? Do you think I might try to push you? Might hurt you?” He waited until Finch opened his eyes. “What are you afraid of here?”

Still panting slightly, Harold gathered all his courage to answer John as honestly as he could. “I, I’m afraid to lose control.”

“Well, some might say that was the point: to lose control.” Reese drawled.

Harold shook his head. “Not of myself… well that is part of it but… control of the situation.” Embarrassed, Finch lowered his forehead to John’s. “I’m afraid things will spiral out until I can’t predict what will happen.” He closed his eyes. “Since I have no personal experience, I have no way of knowing what to do next or what you might do.” 

Finch looked into the loving, concerned gaze of his lover. “I trust you John, I swear I do. I’m just… When I can’t predict all the outcomes, I conjure up the worst case scenarios and I, I panic.”

Reese nodded and turned them both over with Finch on the bottom to support Harold’s neck. He was careful to keep his growing arousal away from Finch. “Ok, ok. First of all when it comes to us… the worst case scenario is beard burn and maybe lips that have been bruised from kissing.” He looked down into the face of love and comfort to him. “Got it?”

Finch felt so stupid. “I know. I know you’ll never hurt me.” God this was awkward. He was awkward! “I can’t make the, the images and fears go away. My rational brain tells me that you would rather die than hurt me but, but I…I…”

Finch was getting agitated. John soothed. “It’s alright. I’m here and I love you.” The younger man brought one hand under Harold’s neck and the other under his lower back. “Understand?”

“Yes. I’m sorry.”

“Do not apologize for my loving you. **Ever**!” Reese began to kiss Harold’s collarbone. “We just have to find a way for you to be in control.” 

Finch slammed his head back into the pillows in frustration. “You shouldn’t have to, to make allowances for me. I should **_know_** how to do this by now.”

John guided Harold’s lips to his own. “Hush.” Reese shifted them onto their sides with Harold’s right leg draped over John’s hip. “Do you have any idea what it feels like to have you give me this?” He caressed the knee at his waist. “To be the one you are willing to trust with this?” John moved his hand to Harold’s waist. “To be the first and only person you would share your fears and try to share your body with?”

“I love you too John. In some ways I am glad that I waited, that it’s you and only you.” Harold sighed. “In other ways I feel like I’m shortchanging you. You deserve to be loved completely, thoroughly and expertly.” He averted his gaze. “I can research and plan, but in the end I don’t know what I’m doing.”

John moved their faces until Finch was looking into his eyes. “You think I do? Mechanics yes, but each person, each lover is different.” He gestured to his own nipples and jerked his hips minutely. “The obvious erogenous zones are one thing when you get hot and heavy, but what about foreplay?” Reese closed his mouth over the nearest ear and whispered. “Do you like to have your ears nibbled?” He moved his mouth back to that neck that tempted him in its starched collars. “Do I like to have my neck attacked until there are bruises and bites all over?” He looked up again. “People are unique and what they like at second or third base is unique. Why don’t we set some ground rules?”

“What?” Finch was confused.

John shrugged. “Ground rules: for now until you tell me otherwise there will be no touching below the waist. No touching under clothes past the collarbone.” Reese kissed his lover’s hairline. “No nipple play or frottage.” He moved to those soft expressive lips. “You’ll be in complete control of how far we go and you can predict what will happen. OK?”

“Until I say otherwise?” Harold asked in a daze. 

“Unless you tell me **_before_** things get started.” Reese affirmed. “That way it’s not a decision you make in the heat of the moment that you might regret later.” He gathered Harold into a tighter embrace. “Also, getting close is ok but no frottage. That’s mainly a rule for me.” John buried head in the collar of Finch’s white T-shirt. “But I need you close. I need your warmth, your smell, and your taste. I need you Harold.”

Finch moved both hands to the back of John’s head. He ran his fingers through the short salt and pepper strains. “I need you too, so much.” He lifted the head in his hands. “I want this and I want you John. If you’re willing to let me lead us in this, I am very willing to try.” Harold kissed those pouty lips.

John groaned and moved over Harold. He sank his hands into the cotton fabric to bring his lover closer. Finch took a breath and dived back in. Both men began to explore the other, above the waist of course. Harold smoothed his palms over the strong firm pectorals, careful to avoid a nipple. Reese found some stray chest hair to nuzzle with his nose. 

Slowly, their bodies melded. John’s chest restlessly wiggled closer to Harold’s. Finch wrapped his arms around Reese, lightly scratching his back. They would alternate between deep kisses and mouthing whatever part they could reach. 

Needing to be even closer, Reese shifted his hips to push them against Harold’s thigh. Finch was surprised to feel a solid bar pressing into him. 

Startled, he broke the kiss. “Oh, John. Is that? Is that from what we were doing, from me?”

Reese licked behind an ear and husked. “Oh yes. You turn me on Harold.” He looked into Harold’s face. “You’re so adorable, sweet, kind and sexy.” 

Finch grimaced in disbelief. “Sexy?”

“Uh huh.” John kissed the upturned nose and removed those glasses finally. “You’ve got an ass that won’t quit, the cutest little belly that I want to knead like a panther’s kitten seeking nourishment, and my god that chest hair!” He brought a hand up to demonstrate. “My hands itch so badly when you change your tie or go casual leaving a few buttons undone.” One finger pulled down the collar of Finch’s tee. “All those stray gray and brown hairs seem to beg to be caressed and have my fingers comb through them. GOD!” 

Reese sniffed into Harold’s chest as he undulated his hips. Once again, Finch became aware of how hard and swollen John’s erection had become. “Does that?” He panted. “Isn’t that painful?”

“Can be.” John raised his head to reassure Harold. “I’ll make sure it doesn’t get to that point. Heat up than cool down.” He returned to nuzzle at the hollow formed where neck meets torso. “If I pass a point of no return, I’ll take a trip to the bathroom. Don’t worry, this is my problem not yours. I won’t push you just because I’m aching with desire for you.”

Harold face heated up. “You wouldn’t have to…to go to another room, necessarily.”

The dark head snapped up. “What are you saying Finch?”

He couldn’t turn his head, so Harold closed his eyes. “You could take care of the, the problem here. I wouldn’t mind.”

Reese sat up a bit. “Jesus, Finch! Are you saying you want to watch me masturbate?”

With a face so red one had to wonder if he might pop a blood vessel, Harold answered in a hesitant soft voice. “It wouldn’t violate the rules and that way I can learn how you like it.”

John rolled to the side and wiped his brow. “That wasn’t what I asked Harold. Do you **_want_** to watch me masturbate?”

Slowly, Harold opened his eyes and boldly declared. “Yes.”

“Holy shit!” Reese ran his hand over the bulge in his slacks. “That is the hottest thing I have ever heard.” He made to stand but hesitated. “That is if you’re sure you won’t panic?”

Finch sat up, excited. “I won’t. You’ll only be touching yourself, but what about Kenneth and Captain Starsky? Won’t they wonder where we are?”

“Carter and Fusco will be talking to the responding officers for a while with them. We subdued all three hitmen and left them either tied up or unconscious before they could set the house on fire. The story goes that Fusco was visiting a friend with his partner and they saw something suspicious.” 

Reese kissed Finch quickly. “Let me lock the door.” John rose and made good on his word. Turning around to face Harold, he asked again. “You sure?”

“Yes, I…I’m curious and John?” Harold pinked up and averted his eyes. “I have imagined this before.”

“You’ve fantasized about me jerking off?” John groaned, getting weak at the knees.

Harold nodded. “I hope you aren’t mad.”

“Hell no.” Reese started to unbutton his shirt and walk to the bed. “Tell me what you imagined.”

“No.” Harold said coyly. “I want to s-see how you like it. Maybe next time.”

“Ok.” Reese gestured to his pants. “Let me get these off. You want a striptease or…?”

Finch darted a glance at Reese then snatched his glasses back on. “However you usually prefer.”

“Usually I’m in boxers ready for bed. I start thinking about you and…”

Harold shook his head. “No. Use your favorite fantasy John.”

Down to boxers and undershirt, Reese kneeled on the foot of the bed. “You **_are_** my favorite fantasy. Don’t you get that?” He smoothed out the excess fabric of his shorts to clearly outline his erection. “I’m granite hard, not from a penthouse model or ex-girlfriend, but from you.”

With wonder and a pleased expression, Finch asked. “What do you think about us doing when you fantasize?”

Reese spread his knees for better purchase. “Mostly getting to know you or… don’t laugh.” The former agent waited for Harold to nod in agreement before he went on. “My favorite fantasy is when I find your house.”

Harold was incredulous. “Your erotic material is following me to my house?”

It was John’s turned to blush. “No, yes, just listen.” Reese rubbed his taut stomach with his left hand. “I get to your real house and break in. When you see me you say, ‘Welcome home, John’.”

“Mr. Reese, that is heartbreaking!” 

John’s hand stilled. “Look, any street walker can get me off.” Reese leaned over to lay his hand on Harold’s knee. “What I want is you, a life, a home; a life and a home **with** you.” 

Finch nodded. “Alright, is that all? Just being welcomed?”

Reese leaned back. “Why don’t you describe your house to me?”

“What? Why?” Harold was again confused.

“It doesn’t have to be your real home, a safe house maybe.” John smoothed his hand over his right nipple. “Just tell me how it’s decorated. What some items mean to you.” His right hand caressed his own thigh. “Your voice, I love your voice. It’s almost like a home by itself. When I have you in my ear I kind of feel safe and content. Please Harold.”

Breathless, Finch answered. “Alright.” 

~*~*~

**Author's Note:** I would like to thank aprilvalentine on LiveJournal for their constructive criticism on the previous chapter. Feedback is very welcome and so helpful. I hope every reader feels free enough to give me their honest opinions on my work. If they don't want to openly comment, PM's are certainly welcomed.


	12. Chapter 12

“Hutch!” The Captain cried. “What have you been doing? Where are Batman and Alfred?”

Seeing his partner, Hutch was angry. “Harold needed some PT after you cracked his neck! John’s making sure he’s alright.” The Councilman raised the ‘Hutchinson finger’ to point it at his lover. “You better be glad Harold can stifle his pain response so well because if John knew how badly you wrenched his partner around you’d be the one with a limp and I’d help him!”

Starsky tried to grab his lover around the waist. “Hutch? Babe?”

“Get off me!” Ken pulled away. “You were a bully with no regard for Harold’s injuries!”

Starsky was despondent. “I thought he was after you and faking them, Blintz. I was scared for us.” David pleaded for understanding. “You know me Hutch.” 

The blond crossed his arms. “Yeah, I know you. I know you over react when you think I’m in danger.” Hutch pointed that finger at his partner again. “Shot any gas tanks out lately?”

David was stricken remembering the kidnapping case where he thought they had taken out Hutch. “Damn it Hutch.” He made to go to his lover again, needing him to realize the situation they had been in. “I had to make sure they were on our side. All I can do is say it was necessary. I won’t apologize for keeping my partner safe. But I will apologize to Harry about the neck thing.”

All three other people in the living room said. “Harold!”

Kenneth allowed his lover to hold him. “Don’t call him Harry.”

So very grateful to be permitted to lay his head on Hutch’s shoulder, Starsky murmured. “Jeeze, this guy has all of you jumping to defend him. Is he such a stick in the mud that I can’t nickname him at all?”

Ken rubbed the back of his lover’s head. “He just makes everyone around him want to protect him that’s all. He is special but particular and proper. Call him Harold or Finch: no nicknames.” He moved Starsky’s head back to look him in the eyes. “And let him call you David.”

Starsky cringed. “Ah man!”

Fusco tried to give them their privacy by looking anywhere but at the couple. “Better let him. He can find out your deepest, darkest, most embarrassing secrets and you do not want to be on his bad side.”

“So he blackmails everyone?” Starsky asked.

Carter was amused at Fusco’s discomfort at the Captain’s PDA. “No, he just let’s you know he knows. Then you have to walk around with the knowledge that nothing is beyond his scope.” 

She found Reese’s coat and picked it up. “We need to get John. He was the reason we were able to respond. They’d like him to report to the other officers.”

“Yeah, I’ll have to make an appearance.” Starsky reluctantly pulled away from Hutch’s embrace. “They must be frantic with worry with no one at the house.” 

“So, what’s our story?” Hutch asked.

Carter considered what John had mentioned on the way back over, before the standoff. “We need to keep to the truth as much as possible. Fusco was visiting a friend from the old neighborhood with his partner.”

Lionel picked up the narrative. “We saw Rodgers in uniform cross the street, gun out. We identified ourselves then pursued the suspects. Found them starting a fire and we apprehended them before they could even light a match.” 

Hutch was alarmed when he remembered the fire. “What about the fact that Starsky and I ran across the street?” 

Fusco shrugged. “Easy. Rodgers’ housemate Harold got you two out while he investigated.” 

Carter made to leave for the kitchen. “We need to get John.”

Hutch lightly touched her arm, stopping her. “Not just yet. I think he and Harold are working something out.”

Fusco snorted causing Carter to narrow her eyes at her partner and say. “Well, we need him. What do we tell the other officers?”

Kenneth realized that Carter knew nothing about John and Harold’s relationship but Fusco was aware and somewhat supportive. “Harold assisted but he aggravated his injuries and Rodgers is helping him. He’ll be right out as soon as Harold is settled.” 

Carter nodded and set down John’s coat. “Ok. That could work. Let’s go.”

The group made their way across the street to the relief of the rescue crews. Starsky was instantly surrounded.

*~*~*

“I prefer safety over architecture.” Harold began as John listened.

“I have a warehouse made to look like a furniture design gallery nestled between several old buildings.”

Reese panted lightly and rubbed the hand on his thigh harder, tweaking a nipple.

“Alleys run crisscross on three sides: four different exits and one underground tunnel entrance from below the street are all monitored with cameras and motion sensors.”

John switched hands for his nipples and used the other to caress his bulge.

“When you step inside after a multi-digit code into the touchpad outside, there is a foyer. A reinforced steel cage really made to look like a drawing room. Cameras everywhere and a voice activated door.”

John’s left hand sank below the waistband to fondle himself, skin on skin. Harold gasped.

“After that you enter the house proper. All the windows are bullet proof and run from eight feet off the floor to the drop down ceiling.”

John slowly pulled the band down letting his cock spring free. The former agent watched his lover carefully for any sign of distress. Finch licked his lips making Reese groan inarticulately. 

“It looks like a typical Manhattan loft in sleek modern tones used as a display but that is just a prop. When you go over to the side wall there are eight foot high bookcases.”

Reese let his left hand circle his erection while his right gathered up his testicles.

“If you were to pull off a first edition of Charles Darwin’s The Descent of Man, you would see a key pad behind it. Entering another code slides the bookcases aside to reveal an elevator. Taking this to the next floor gets you to the actual residents.”

John’s eyes closed briefly once he took a firm hold of himself but quickly opened them to watch Harold.

“I like order but also need my things around me. It calms me to have my books near so every available surface is festooned with them. Many times, every seat in the house has a different book beside it, marked with a piece of paper or old photograph to save my place.”

Reese ran his fist all the way to the base and squeezed. Then he pulled up to the tip letting the foreskin cover the head. Harold made a breathy ‘oh’ and continued.

“I counted them once; seven different books in various stages of completion. Many of them I have read several times already. I like solid cherry wood, the more engravings the better. Heavy bookcases allow pictures and frames to be hung from the dividers.”

John started stroking. A rhythm established itself that Finch followed in his narrative. His voice soft and his eyes glued to long fingers with detailed and defined knuckles.

“The shelves are so deep that many times I can place objects in front of the books for display. Dusting is a nightmare. The only windows are in the front of the building, bulletproof and keypad locked everyone.”

Reese lifted his balls over the waistband to hear Finch moan at the sight. Harold leaned forward to rearrange his knees. 

“Heavy brocade curtains to block out light and sound when necessary. My pallet is rather Victorian I’m afraid, dark burgundies, purples, and rich blues with subtle goldenrod accents.”

John caressed his left testicle with a thumb and two fingers. His eyes were slits as he watched Finch’s lips move to form vowels and consonants. Those bespectacled, crystal blue eyes never strayed from John’s lap.

“I am partial to velvets and corduroy. I have a fireplace in every room. The ceilings are all tined with elaborate decorations.”

Reese clenched his jaw and quickened his strokes.

“The kitch, the kitchen has copper leaf and the bedroom gold.”

Harold panted as John opened his eyes wide and released a gust of air.

“My, my bed is large and adjustable with so many pillows of different, different sizes and shapes that you can hardly see the patch, the patchwork quilt my mother made when she was fourteen and dreaming of a marriage bed to cover.” 

John gasped and said, ‘Oh’, making the first real word since starting. His hips jerked up into his fist. His face was red with sweat pooling at the collar of his tee. His right hand left his balls to frantically tweak both nipples.

“It’s the only thing I have of hers with the exception of her sophomore yearbook photo framed on my mantle next to a picture of Grace.”

John’s face was a rectus of ecstasy, almost as if he were trying to say something but the words wouldn’t form. Harold’s heart was hammering and his whole body tingled. 

“Beside my bed is a peculiar framed photograph of the warehouse itself.”

John’s left hand was a blur. Pounding his fist down and jerking his grip up with small thrusts from his pelvis. 

“If you press a rosette in the right corner the warehouse photo rolls back.”

Harold stuttered and gasped as John’s scrotum drew up to be cradled by his right hand. 

“To, to show a headshot”

Small grunts could barely be heard as John’s speed increased and his rhythm faltered.

“Of Sergeant John Fitzpatrick late of the Green Berets.” 

Reese couldn’t contain the bitten off utterance of ‘Harold’ that rushed from his lips as sweet release washed over him making his eyes bulge. Semen gushed over his knuckles to run down into his shorts. A shiver passed through him and entered Finch. 

Both men sat gasping in the aftermath. 

*~*~*

The group returned from the crime scene needing Reese to complete their report. Hutch figured the two ‘lovebirds’ must be otherwise engaged if they hadn’t noticed everyone was gone. Carter didn’t know about the pair, Fusco was obviously only comfortable to a point and Starsky might get shot by John. “I’ll go check on the uh… John and Harold.”

Hutch knocked on the door to Harold’s bedroom and heard a scuffle. After a few moments of whispers and hisses, John opened the door just enough to look out. His face was flushed and his hair was in disarray. He was dressed thank god! “What?” Reese panted.

“Um, the responding officers really need your report. We told them you were,” Hutch cleared his throat, “Taking care of Harold who aggravated his injuries helping you. But they really need to talk to you.”

Reese nodded and began to finger comb his hair. “Yeah, ok. Just, just give me a sec.” The younger man shut the door in Ken’s face.

Hutch chuckled and made his way into the living room. The three assembled around the front window looked up at Ken who said. “He’s coming”

Lionel snorted and Starsky grinned making Hutch wave his finger at his lover and his impish humor. Before Carter could ask what everyone was grinning about, Reese entered, tucking his uniform shirt into his pants. “Alright, who’s the head responding officer and what do I need to tell him?”

Carter stepped forward and took John’s arm. She started hissing into his ear and the pair made their way out. 

Starsky shook his head. “She has no idea does she?”

Fusco waved his hand around. “Nah, all she sees is this tall, dark and deadly guy. And I doubt she could ever think of Finch as having a love life at all: lucky girl!”

“Thank you for that assessment Detective.” Finch said from the kitchen doorway making everyone jump. He was impeccably dressed in all three pieces of his suit.

“Ah, no first names again?” Lionel asked, disappointed.

Starsky dropped his head and stepped over to Finch, shamefaced. “Listen Harry…uh Harold, I want to apologize for the whole neck thing.”

“Perfectly understandable in the situation Captain.” Finch dismissed. “I hope there are no hard feelings. We needed to make sure Kenneth wasn’t in danger and the exercise class was the best opportunity.” 

Starsky grimaced at the use of Hutch’s first name and raised his head. Only his partner’s parents had ever called him ‘Kenneth’ for as long as Starsky knew him.

“You doing alright?” Kenneth asked with smirk.

Finch blushed and started back into the kitchen. “Yes, thank you. I don’t believe anyone has had supper.”

“Need help?” Hutch asked and followed the smaller man.

“It would be appreciated. I think everyone is so tired that something quick and filling would be needed.” Finch allowed Kenneth to assist in the removal of his jacket. “Are we staying here tonight or going to the safe house immediately?”

Fusco and Starsky leaned against the kitchen doorway trying to stay out of the way. Lionel answered. “I think Reese wants to leave tonight.”

“We need to get some clothes and toiletries. I need my gun.” Hutch remembered, abashed at his forgetfulness. He was getting soft.

“You forgot your gun?” Starsky’s shocked face told Hutch they would be having a conversation later. “In the morning would be better for me. With Rodgers, uh…Reese, Fusco, Carter and everybody we should be ok. The adrenaline has left and I’m about to collapse.”

“Very well.” Finch bobbed his pointed head and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. “I will suggest to John that we stay here for now. Lionel is on a night schedule. Will you be able to monitor things Detective?”

“Sure, no problem.” Fusco grinned. 

“Then Carter can again sleep in your room.” Harold smiled and inquired of Hutch. “Would the queen size bed in John’s room be large enough for you and David, Kenneth?”

“That’ll be fine, Harold.” Kenneth answered. “Thank you.”

“Wait just a damn minute.” Starsky took a step forward. “Why do we need to leave at all? Can’t we just find out who’s after us and take’em out?”

“Do you have any idea who they are Captain?” Finch eyed the older man over his glasses. “If so please enlighten us.”

Starsky rubbed the top of his head. “Alright no, but running just seems like we’re giving up.”

“He who fights and runs away…” Hutch grinned at Harold.

“Hmm.” Finch smiled back and began the task of cooking for his warrior horde.

*~*~*

“Hey, ghetto food!” Carter exclaimed as she took a seat around the crowded dining table.

“More like a poor man’s: quick and filling.” Starsky said as he heaped food onto his plate from the huge pot in the center.

Harold looked on disapprovingly as he passed the buttered bread. “It’s nothing like that.” 

Kenneth took the bread plate and passed it to Starsky. “Let me guess; dorm room cooking?

Harold blushed and nodded as Hutch explained to the rest. “No fridge so canned or dried goods, and just a hot plate or electric kettle.”

“Whatever it is, it’s good.” Lionel said with a mouthful of very hot food.

Finch lowered his eyes with a pleased expression. “Just rice, canned beans, canned tomatoes, chicken bouillon, some garlic powder and onion powder, for meat I added a can of Spam.”

John nudged Harold’s shoulder gently and smirked. “I would have bet real money you’d never even heard of Spam Harold, much less that you would eat it.”

“I haven’t always had such refined tastes, Mr. Reese.” Finch stated primly, a small quirk in his lips the only indication he was teasing.

“If the Captain and the Councilman are sleeping in John’s bed, where will John sleep?” Carter asked once she swallowed.

Finch blushed and pretended to be engrossed in his plate. Reese looked around the table. “Harold has a chair in his room that looks comfortable.”

“Oh ok, if you’re sure.” Carter shrugged. “I guess the couch wouldn’t be long enough.”

“Yeah, that’s what I figured.” John said with eyes only for Harold.

*~*~*

“I’ve moved all my stuff downstairs into Harold’s room.” John explained to Starsky in the now abandoned bedroom while helping the Captain stow his gear next to Ken’s. “The sheets are fresh. Harold insisted. Bathroom is down the hall. You’ll have to share with Fusco and Carter. I hope that’s ok.” 

“It’s fine Rodgers…Reese.” Starsky stepped up and touched John’s arm. “Listen. I want to explain the whole gun to your partner’s head thing.”

“I understand.” Reese whispered.

“I bet you do.” Starsky nodded. “But if you’re anything like me you’re gonna hold it against me forever. I don’t want that. Hutch don’t want that, and I bet Harold will be on you to forgive me.” 

Reese smirked. “Yup.”

“That’s part of loving a man who sees only the good in people and wants harmony and happiness for everyone; someone who just wants to help, who can’t understand that the human heart can harbor evil just for evil’s sake.” The older man swiped his face with his left hand. “Hutch and Harold are cut from the same cloth, a love for the written word and high ideals.” 

He took a deep breath and looked right at Reese. “But you and I, maybe Carter, we’ve seen up close the way a person can simply tear and destroy for no good reason other than their personal amusement.” 

Starsky’s gaze wandered over to the doorway, hoping Hutch took a little longer in the shower. “We have to walk a fine line between protecting our little bookworms and preserving their innocence. It breaks our hearts to see one more brutal truth make a home in those gentle eyes.” 

The Captain returned his own world weary eyes to stare into John’s equally battle scared blue. “When Hutch retired, I felt both relieved and abandoned. I promised myself that no more of the filth and cruelty from my job would touch him. It’s been dented, but my promise has remained intact for nearly thirty years. So, I might have overreacted and for that I’m sorry.”

Starsky placed his other hand on Reese’s arm hoping to get the other man to see his sincerity. “But if you ever need someone to wade through that filth in order for Harold to stay above it, I’d walk that line with you anytime cause I know now that you’d do the same for me.”

John swallowed and sighed. “That means a lot Starsky. It helps to know someone else is there.”

Starsky released his grip and sat on the bed. “I don’t know Harold well yet. But he’s important to Hutch, I see that. So, that means he’s important to me now. I’ll make mistakes and might offend the little guy or you.” John smirked and Starsky continued. “Give me time. I have a feeling when this is all over you and I will be stuck with each other. I see play-dates to a bookstore in our future.” 

John snorted and patted Starsky on the shoulder. He made to leave and bumped into Hutch. “Night Hutch.”

“Everything alright in here?” The blond asked with an arched eyebrow. He was worried these two might go for each other’s throats.

Starsky waved from the bed. “Yeah, just some army grunts swapping war stories.” 

“Everything’s fine… at least between us.” Reese left to join Harold downstairs after checking with Fusco.

*~*~*

John closed the bedroom door softly and watched Harold reading by the bed. The older man had already dressed for sleeping in a ridiculous silk pajama set with vivid purple and green paisley. Slowly Reese began to remove his shirt and slacks. “We didn’t get a chance to talk after… after I um finished.”

Finch looked up briefly and blushed. “It all seemed straightforward John. I’ve had the birds and the bees talk or ‘bees and bees’ as the case may be.” 

Finally down to boxers and undershirt, John crossed over to sit on the bed close to Harold. “No, not that, were you ok with what happened? Did you feel in control? No panic?”

“No panic.” Harold shook his head and placed a receipt for gas into his book, closing it and laying it on the bedside table. “It was very enlightening and stimulating. Thank you. I’m not sure I could have done that.”

“What?” John asked as he took both of Harold’s soft hands into his own. “Jerk off in front of me? I hope one day you’d feel comfortable and safe enough to let me watch you.”

“We’ll see.” Finch murmured. “What are your plans? Do we have any ideas on the one financing this vendetta?”

The change of subject wasn’t very subtle, but John let the subject drop; for now. “No. I’d like you to look at copies of the threats Starsky received.”

“Alright.” Harold stood awkwardly and walked over to his desk. “But I don’t think reading homophobic slurs before slipping into bed with my, my boyfriend will be conducive to a restful night.”

“Boyfriend?” John smirked, liking the sound of that. He rose to gather his copies of the threats mailed to Starsky. “Besides, none of these say anything about Starsky being gay. They don’t even mention Hutch except as a casualty when they finally get to Starsky.”

“What?” Finch turned to Reese and snatched the papers from his hand. “John anybody aware of New York politics in the last five years knows Kenneth Hutchinson is the “Gay” Councilman. Even Carter and Fusco were aware of the relationship. There was a walk out at the 68th planned to protest the Captain. But only five officers actually left.”

Reese shrugged and sat on the foot of the bed. “So, maybe whoever’s behind this doesn’t care he’s gay.”

“Not the point.” Harold shuffled through the stack barely reading most of the missives. “These are threats, meant to terrorize. What is more terrifying than insults and threats to a loved one?” 

John placed his hands on Harold’s, stilling them. “It’s been a long day Harold. Come to bed.”

“Just a minute.” Finch escaped out of John’s grasp and spread out the papers on his desk. “There is something here. It is poking at my mind. If I could just…”

Reese stood and lifted Finch away from the desk. “Come to bed. You can let it poke your brain while you snuggle next to me.”

Harold turned to rest within John’s embrace. The shorter man sighed and nuzzled the tan neck. “I haven’t shared a bed in years John. I might… I need to be propped up and my neck…”

John kissed the spiky brown hair. “Alright, you get comfortable. Let me mold myself around you.” 

Harold hesitated, but then took a deep breath and pushed away from John. He went to the bed and carefully arranged the mound of pillows. He even brought extras from the side of the bed that John hadn’t known were there; a wedge, several tubular rolls and a memory foam form that went between the legs when lying on your side. Harold looked up at John with an unfathomable expression, then returned the leg pillow to the side. Carefully, Harold mounted the heap and positioned himself on the whole thing like a potentate holding court. 

John gently crawled onto the left, unoccupied side. “You sleep like this?” 

Finch nodded. “Unless I need to be on my side.”

“Ok.” Reese hesitated. “Can I hold you? I won’t disturb your throne.”

“Yes.” Finch raised his right arm to let Reese lay his head on the older man’s shoulder. 

John spooned his body as close to Harold as possible without dislodging him from his perch. Reese burrowed his left arm under his lover and used his right to stroke and caress the little pot belly he had admired for so long. He sighed in contentment. “This is nice.”

“Surprisingly, yes it is.” Finch rubbed John’s shoulder. “I was worried it would be awkward and we wouldn’t be able to, to snuggle.”

“I like snuggling.” John kissed Harold’s cheek. “I sleep better when I can touch my bedmate. Lets me know they’re safe and where I can protect them.”

Reese settled in. “I’m going to ask Hutch to teach me that deep tissue massage. I have some training with injury recovery and know the basics, but he seemed to know just where to touch and with how much pressure, even with your fused spine and pins.”

“John.” Harold leaned his head back to try and look Reese in the face. “I don’t expect you to cater to me. I have a physical therapist.”

“Which you skip routinely.”

Finch sighed. “The numbers wait for no man.”

“And if I learn how to take care of you, you won’t have to suffer for it.” Reese stated. “I could work your neck and back every morning before we get dressed. You can shower while I shave and then I’ll shower. We can dress together. It would be a nice routine. I’d like that. Never got to have that with Jess.”

“John.” Harold warned.

“It doesn’t have to be at your house.” Reese hurried to make his case. “We can go to my apartment. You’d know you were safe because I’d be there.”

Finch frowned. “I have an extensive wardrobe and need a virtual library with me at all times. It would be impractical to always have an overnight bag.”

“Ok, it was just a thought. S’not important.” John lowered his head to hide his face.

Oh God, Harold had hurt John with his inability to even entertain the notion of change. Finch thought about the pros and cons of essentially living with Reese. Could he rearrange his orderly life, let another person into a world he had built and compartmentalized to dizzying degrees? Not even Grace had been privy to his real life. 

The thought of Grace and morning routines brought an ache to Harold’s chest. To wake up every morning to the warmth and companionship of a lover, a spouse, was a luxury he thought he had left behind. To have that with John would be bliss.

*~*~*

Kenneth Hutchinson toweled off and bent over his suitcase looking for his boxers. “So, you two buried the hatchet?”

“Wasn’t a big deal Blintz.” Starsky said as he admired the view from under the covers. “John and I understand each other more than you’d think.”

“Good.” Hutch laid out his shorts and a grey tee. “Harold and I don’t want any discord between you. We have to work together.”

“You coming to bed Blondie?” The brunet pulled the blankets up revealing his nude tanned body, still toned with just a slight thickening about the waist after all these years. The muscular chest was covered in a mat of salt & pepper hair. “Nice and warm over here. No need for extra layers.”

Hutch turned to look at his lover and crossed his arms. “You are as subtle as a freight train.”

“Subtle ain’t my style.” The Captain leered and patted the mattress. “I like a guy to know where I’m coming from or where I’d like to come.” 

“Really?” Hutch asked as he made his way over to snuggle next to his frisky lover. “Are we in a Frat now?”

Starsky gathered his aging Adonis in his arms and sucked on the long neck, kneading the belly softened with time. “Sure, come-soon-loudly.” 

Hutch moaned and laughed softly. “That was awful.”

*~*~*

Finch nudged Reese to make sure the former agent was still awake. “Could we start small? I could leave a few suits, pillows and some books at your place. Maybe once or twice a week I could spend the night? If I start to feel comfortable with the idea, we could readdress the issue. I have too many books to move them across town.”

“Harold, really?” The younger man was shocked and grinning madly.

“I’ll try.” Finch nodded. “I can’t promise I’ll ever be able to make a full transition, but I’m willing to try if you want.”

“Thank you!” John rose to kiss Harold. He opened his mouth and moaned. The strong toned body was a welcomed furnace along Harold’s bad side. 

Finch caressed John’s muscular back with both hands as Reese began kneading Harold’s neck. Finally, frustrated with the limited access, Reese rolled them both over, gracefully leaving the mountain of pillows intact. Reese loomed over the smaller man, engulfing him with a lithe, sturdy body. 

Harold thought he would feel trapped or suffocated like this but instead he felt sheltered, cradled, loved. John mouthed along his jaw, vigorously tonguing the cleft in his chin. The former agent’s skilled fingers tantalized every inch it encountered bringing a sizzle down Finch’s spine. The taller man removed Harold’s glasses to place them on the night stand on his book. 

Recalling John’s explanation of everyone’s different hot spots and Reese’s penchant for Harold’s own neck, Finch latched onto the corded column of tanned skin before him.Sucking lightly and moving his lips incessantly, Harold followed the ligament to its base.

Once there, Finch scraped his teeth along the defined trapezius muscle, bringing a deep rumbling groan from John. 

“Oh Harold.” Reese adjusted their legs to insinuate his thigh between Harold’s own. John undulated and shimmied, rubbing his torso across the silky shirt Harold wore. Finch pushed up with his hips as far as his back would allow. A desperate yearning to feel all of Reese crackled to his core. Finally it was too much and not enough. Harold rocked his pelvis against John’s thigh using his good leg to achieve some sweet friction. 

Reese stilled and looked down into Harold’s flushed and frightened face. “You alright?”

“Yes, did I do something wrong?” Finch gazed up into John’s face with fearful eyes. “Did I hurt you?”

“No.” John smiled. “You just, I thought you were getting upset and tried to push me off.”

“No, I want you closer.” Finch moaned.

“Any closer and I might need to take a bathroom break. Unless?” Reese trailed off.

“Can I?” Finch took a deep breath. “I think I want to touch you, but I’m n-not ready to be touched. Would that be alright? Am I telling you at the right time according to the rules? I won’t know what to do and you can take over when I fail.” 

“Hang on.” Reese sat up a bit. “You want to, to give me a hand job?” At Harold’s shy nod, John asked. “You sure about that? I don’t want you to feel obligated or push yourself.”

“I’m not.” Harold shook his head. His sky blue eyes were hazy but wide open. “I want to touch you, so much. I can control myself, but I just don’t think I could let you touch me.” Finch lowered his eyes, ashamed. “That’s selfish; I’m sorry just, go ahead to the bathroom.”

“Not with an offer like that.” Reese smirked. “Why would you think that was selfish? You want me to lie back and enjoy it.”

“Because I can’t offer you the same liberties.” Finch refused to meet John’s eyes. “I ask you to let me see you at your most private when I won’t even remove my shirt for you.”

“I’m comfortable being naked.” John moved Harold’s head until the older man was looking right at him. “Between the army barracks, hospitals, CIA and lovers, more people have seen me naked then I’d like to admit. I don’t have that self conscious connection between flesh and self. When someone sees my body, it’s like showing them my gun or a badge.” Reese shrugged. “That’s not me. For you, your body and mind are intimately connected with who you are. You are very much in your body. Me, I can float outside it. My body is just a tool. It’s how I can keep fighting with a knife wound or bullet hole. It’s more intimate for me to see **you** than for you to see me. For that matter, it’s more intimate for you to allow me to be naked around you than for you to touch me. Does that make sense?"

“I think so.” Finch whispered.

“Anyway, I don’t feel like we have to keep things equal.” John firmed his clinch on his lover, caressing his curves. “It’s not some competition; I’ll show you mine if you show me yours. I only want what you are comfortable giving. Hell, I’ve had full penetration with people I’ve never even seen with their shirt off. I don’t need to see you.” 

John kissed Harold deeply and pulled back to ghost his lips along the other man’s cheek. “I want to see you because your body is an erotic playground for me and that will mean you feel safe with me. But if we never get to that point, I won’t feel cheated. Especially if you let me touch you, even over your clothes. And now you want to get me off. Nothing about this seems selfish to me.”

Harold blinked back tears. “I’m so fortunate to have found you.”

“Hey, I’m the one getting lucky here.” John laughed. “How do you want me?”

“Lie back, sitting up so you can make sure I don’t do anything wrong. I might have to stop. Just don’t reciprocate.” Finch watched Reese do just that and swallowed trying very hard to articulate his desires. “I want to touch you so much. But I might spook easily if you try to touch me.”

“How about this?” Reese considered and leaned over the bed. He brought up his belt. “Tie my hands to the headboard.”

“Mr. Reese that’s not necessary!” Harold said, alarmed. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“No matter how well you tie it, we both know I can easily get out of this.” John smirked. “Consider it an exercise in suspension of belief. It will make it harder for me to accidently grab for you. I might be able to control my hands but I also might get overwhelmed. This way I have something to remind me to keep still.” 

“If you’re sure?” Finch hesitated.

“I am. Also, I’ll try to keep my hips still, but you need to understand that sometimes the pleasure is so good that the urge to thrust is just instinctual and can’t be controlled. Expect it and don’t worry that you might be hurting me.” Reese began the task of securing the belt around the headboard and his wrists. “If you do something I don’t like I’ll say ‘yellow light’. If something hurts or I really need you to stop, I’ll say ‘red light’. That way there are no misunderstandings with my moans and groans. Do you want me to give you feedback; you know, tell you I really like something? Or do you need me to be quiet?” 

“Instruction would be very welcome.” Harold blushed.

John laughed softly. “Harold, it’s the same equipment you’ve been playing with since you were born. Just do what you like, only from a different angle.”

Finch wrinkled his brow. “But you’re uncircumcised and you seemed to like handling your foreskin.”

“Actually I am cut. I just have some extra skin. Which, admittedly I have probably stretched out with decades of playing with myself.” Reese shrugged. “Yes, I like to have my foreskin manhandled. It feels good. If that is something you aren’t comfortable with, don’t do it. For me, I can cover my half hard cockhead with the excess skin, and make it feel like someone else is touching me. Once I get hard enough to come, I can’t extend the foreskin past the ridge.”

Harold marveled at this confident man. “You’re so comfortable and forthright about all this.” 

“I guess I’ve never had the hang ups most people do about sex. My Dad was a great guy. I got lucky there.”

Knowing the history behind that soft wistful look in his lover’s eyes, Finch remained silent as he tugged the belt to make sure it was secure and wouldn’t cut into John’s wrists. The former agent had enough scars as it was.

*~*~*

Starsky moaned and jerked his hips down. “Need you Blintz. Want you so bad.”

Hutch knew that the fright from earlier was pushing his lover to connect and reassure himself that Ken was safe. When they first became lovers, every close call on the street meant a lustful Starsky demanding to top. 

It had been a while since Hutch had been given this side of his lover. The blond relished the lust and aggression pouring out of his mate. To be wanted and needed so much made him ache at his core and he clenched his ass. Wordlessly he groped for the bedside table. 

Hutch got the drawer open but Starsky retrieved the lube. “You little scamp.” 

Kenneth arched his hips up, spread his thighs and moaned out. “I know what my man wants.”

Starsky’s eyes blazed hotter at the wanton display. He got to his knees and popped the top on the bottle. He looked around. He noticed a towel lying at the side of the bed next to the firm pillow they used to help position the one who was on the bottom. It was from their bedroom and had a removable cover. Damn, Hutch did know him well.

*~*~*

Finch replaced his glasses and hesitated over Reese. Where to begin? He placed his right hand on a pectoral muscle and dragged his fingers over a pert nipple. John squirmed and wiggled a gratifying reaction for Harold. His other hand skimmed along John’s flat stomach, which quivered. 

Finch stroked the firm tummy and reached with his other hand to tweak the erect nipple, just as he’d seen John do earlier. Reese began to pant. Each pass pulled a response from John. The younger man rotated his hips and pushed into Harold’s hands. 

Every touch that was received enthusiastically emboldened the billionaire who straddled the bound man’s legs. Harold explored the sides of his lover, pressing his thumb into the muscle he found. When he reached John’s arms he moved to massage the sturdy neck. Admiration and envy warred within Finch. Carefully, Harold leaned over and sucked at John’s mouth. He pulled back and brought both palms to the front. He felt John’s Adam’s apple with one thumb, the carotid artery with the other. Instead of tensing up, Reese pulled his head back exposing more of his throat. Finch wasn’t so naïve not to understand the significance of the former agent’s submission. 

Humbled, Harold’s grip traveled down John’s abdomen to stop right above the iron bar trying to make a hole in Reese’s shorts. Finch swallowed and looked into the lust filled gaze of his lover. John noticed the hesitation and was about to speak. No doubt letting Harold off the hook if this was too much. 

Finch took a deep breath and lowered the waistband over the hard column and under the generous scrotum. With this Reese did tense up with worry for Harold, not himself. Harold let out his breath and smiled. “Impressive, Mr. Reese. I was aware of your fondness for large weapons. I see you come by it naturally.” 

John laughed and grinned. Finch ran his fingers over the thick black and silver pubic hair. He combed through the springy locks, drawing out more of Reese’s male scent. Harold gently smoothed his index finger from the top of John’s pubic bone, up the long sturdy length to playfully rim the slit. Fluid beaded up causing Harold to rub it between his finger and thumb, as if testing its texture. Finch looked up over his glasses at Reese and slowly raised the digit to his tongue. A tiny lick had John moaning loudly and closing his eyes.

“Interesting flavor, I suppose you drink more beer and coffee than I do.” Harold said. 

“God Finch, you could tempt a fucking saint.” Reese ground out.

Finch blushed and circled John’s cock with his right hand. He slowly closed his fist around the thick, throbbing fullness. Only Harold’s ring and middle fingers could completely wrap themselves around the hard engorged flesh. Finch extended his index finger up to stimulate the sensitive spot under the head where the flared glans meet. His grasp was short of his goal. 

John shuddered, causing Harold to look up. The tanned flushed face smiled encouragement so Finch squeezed experimentally. Reese’s legs shifted restlessly and his hips jerked up. Finch pushed down to the base, then pulled up letting the foreskin crinkle around the head. On the down stroke, Harold twisted and dug his thumb along the pulsing and substantial vein. 

Recalling his lover’s earlier performance, Harold glided his left hand to lift the heavy sack. His fingers palpitated the oval testes and his thumb rubbed the crisp hair. John whimpered softly.

*~*~*

Starsky coated his length, then smoothed two slick fingers around his lover’s opening. Hutch sighed and spread his legs farther apart. The pillow elevated his ass to give Starsky a perfect view between long legs sprinkled with fine grey and blonde hairs. His lover’s knees were around the brunet’s ears as Starsky leaned over and inserted both fingers. Thirty years together required little preparation. Hutch’s body knew him. 

“Still so hot and tight after all this time babe. Makes me afraid I’m gonna hurt you.”

“I’m ready for you. Want it Starsk.” Hutch gasped.

Starsky rose up to kiss his spouse with both fists at Hutch’s shoulders. Looking straight into the liquid fire of Hutch’s eyes, Starsky used his left hand to guide his arousal home. The purpled head popped through the ring of muscle to bring a shiver to both men. 

Cautiously, the brunet pushed half his length inside that channel pulling at him. With both hands supporting most of his weight, Starsky thrust to the hilt and growled. “Love you Hutch. Feels so good.”

Kenneth’s heart beat wildly as his face flushed all the way down his smooth chest. His frantic hands roamed the broad shoulders as he tilted his pelvis to bring his lover deeper.

Starsky drew out quickly to plunge back in. His right hand smoothed down Hutch’s side to glide over the honeyed thigh. He lifted the damaged leg higher to encircle his waist and pistoned in and out. His thrusts grew aggressive as his curly head fell back. “Ah, so good Blintz.” 

Kenneth’s back arched. “Harder Starsky, I need you.”

Between his rapid heaving and vigorous thrusts, Starsky rasped. “Need you too, Blondie.” 

*~*~*

Finch’s strokes grew faster, but the angle and position started to hurt his neck. Harold pushed on, determined to bring John off. Sweat at his brow conspired to fog Finch’s glasses. He needed a hand to support his weight but didn’t want to shortchange the sensation for John. His wrist began to ache. Finch looked up at his lover. John’s head was thrown back, his jaw was clenched so tight that the muscles on the side of his face bunched up to the point they were bulging out. Reese hadn’t said ‘red light’ or even ‘yellow light’, so Harold assumed he was doing alright. 

Finally a cramp began in Finch’s neck. “John, I’m afraid I don’t have the stamina to finish at this angle.” Harold leaned forward and released John’s hands. “You finish please.” Finch rolled over to lie at John’s side.

Reese immediately cupped his scrotum and thrust into his own fist. He turned his head to beckon Harold’s lips to his. “You were fabulous. Felt so good baby.”

The taller man bent his knees and planted both feet firmly on the mattress. “Touch me Harold, please.”

With his head on John’s shoulder, Harold tweaked a nipple and caressed John through his shirt.

Reese’s fist began striping his cock furiously. The sound of his knuckles colliding with his pelvis was loud to Harold who nibbled at John’s ear. When it started to look painful, Finch whispered. “You are the epitome of manliness. You’re gorgeous, John. I love you so much.” 

Reese arched up into his hand with a strangled cry and came. His whole frame convulsed as Harold soothed him through the aftershocks. Out of breath, John rolled to Harold, careful to keep his messy hand away from all that silk. He kissed Finch’s pink face. “Love you too, Harold. That was amazing.”

*~*~*

Starsky pounded into his lover like a man possessed. He got his knees under him and scooped Hutch’s legs up. His thrusts became erratic and short, as if any second away from the haven of his mate was agony.

Flat on his back, thighs spread and ankles in the air, Hutch moaned and his head thrashed from side to side. Without Starsky’s shoulders to hold, he clutched the pillow at his head with one hand. The other hand reached for his bobbing cock. The combined stimulation of his hand and the erection pummeling his prostate sent Hutch over the edge. His whole body seized, arching his back.

The ripples of contracting muscles ripped Starsky’s orgasm violently from his body. Continuing to force his arousal into Hutch, Starsky spilled his seed over and over again. The pleasure was sharp and beautiful. 

Their breathing slowed. The brunet used the towel on his lover, then himself. With the sweat cooling on their bodies, Starsky wrapped Hutch in his arms and spread the blankets over them. “Love you babe.”


	13. Chapter 13

“Nice car.” the Captain said when he and Hutch gathered out front to pack the cars with everyone. The black Town Car was nearly a limo.

“Thank you Captain.” Harold turned to Reese. “Is there anything else we need to pack?”

John shrugged. “Your computers?”

“Just my laptop for now.” Finch raised the satchel in his hand that matched all the bags lying at his feet. “The movers will deliver the rest to a post office box to be picked up when you deem it safe.”

“So you’re more Bruce Wayne and Oracle than Alfred?” Starsky asked.

Finch raised an eyebrow. “What?”

Hutch laid his palm on Starsky’s chest to prevent the curly headed mush brain from explaining. “Ignore him. Which car for which group?”

Reese picked up some of Finch’s suitcases. “I’ll drive Starsky and Carter in my car. Harold will drive Hutch and Lionel.” He went to load the cases into the Lincoln, assisting the movers Finch had hired.

David looked around, as one of the movers gathered up their luggage, and asked Hutch. “Can Finch drive with his bad leg? Just asking. Don’t want him hurting himself.”

“Thank you Captain, but it won’t be a problem.” Finch raised his voice to be heard by John. “Different routes Mr. Reese?”

“Yeah.” John nodded as he loaded another piece of Harold’s Tumi matching luggage. “You take the direct route. I’ll do some bobbing and weaving to make sure there isn’t a tail.”

Satisfied, Finch turned to Fusco and Carter. “Detectives, where do your superiors think you are?”

Lionel smiled. “Right here. My conference days have been canceled.”

When that didn’t seem to satisfy Finch, Carter stepped up. “We’ve been assigned to help with protecting Starsky at our Captain’s request. John gave the responding officers his assessment that there might be a mole in the 68th.”

The Captain puffed up and exclaimed. “Not possible. My men are loyal and honest.”

“Anyone can be tempted, Captain.” Harold said softly and not unkindly.

Starsky shook his head vehemently. “Not my guys.”

“Starsk, everyone has a price. You know that.” The blond patted his partner’s stomach. “Even if it is just to protect a loved one.”

Finch assumed Kenneth would know best how to soothe his lover, so he turned once again to address Reese. “Mr. Reese, both vehicles have been checked over for explosives, but do you want to do a search yourself?”

Reese nodded again. “Yeah, I’ll feel better.”

Harold smiled at the former agent. “By all means. I’ve personally surveyed all wireless channels for a remote device.”

“Thank you, Harold.” John tried to hide how touched he was that Finch knew him so well by ducking under the Town Car’s carriage. Not only would their number need covering, but Finch would be traveling alone with only Lionel and Hutch. Reese trusted them but unless he himself was watching Harold’s back, the younger man would be nervous.

“Ok.” Starsky turned to address the group while Reese was occupied. “Hutch finally has his magnum. Carter, John, Fusco and I are obviously packing. Do we need to lend Finch a piece? Or do you have some little derringer I can’t see?”

Finch was very uncomfortable with this line of inquiry. “I don’t like firearms Captain. In fact, I don’t even know how to use one.”

The Captain was taken aback by this knowledge. “What kind of grown man doesn’t know how to shoot?”

Fusco stepped into the Captain’s personal space and snarled. “Hey, keep your opinions to yourself and your voice down. You want Reese to hear you? Harold can take care of himself just fine.” 

Starsky raised both hands up defensively. “No disrespect, but what if someone is after you?”

Finch needed to defuse this situation before John finished his inspection. “Detective Fusco and the Councilman are both armed. I see no need to resort to my unreliable marksmanship.” Harold heard a low growl behind him and sighed.

Reese brushed off his knees and addressed the assembly. “No one is to even suggest handing Finch a gun- ever. Got it?”

“Got it.” Starsky turned unhappy eyes to his lover. “Hutch?”

“I’ll be fine Starsk.” The Councilman placed both hands on his partner’s shoulders. “Harold looks harmless, but even the meekest birds have claws and a beak.”

*~*~*

“There is something about the threats that have me puzzled.” Finch merged smoothly onto the Gowanus Expressway. “Have either one of you had a look at them?”

“Starsky hasn’t shared them with me.” Kenneth shifted in his seat. “I figured they mention me or are so scary he wants to protect me.”

“Actually, they are accusatory but do not in any way mention you as his lover.” Harold briefly looked over to his passenger. “Mainly they claim he is a corrupt police officer with ties to the mob as a youth, then in LA, but nothing about the last thirty years. It is as if the person behind this has no recent knowledge of the Captain.”

Hutch sat up. “So you’re thinking it’s someone from LA who might have been in prison the last thirty years?”

“Perhaps.” Finch dipped his head. “It is just odd. The phrasing is dated. I have them in my satchel. Would you mind taking a look Detective, Councilman?”

“Sure.” Kenneth found them in the main compartment next to the laptop. He handed a few to Fusco in the back. Both men examined the copies for some time, then switched off. 

As Finch exited the Brooklyn Battery Tunnel, Fusco spoke up. “You’re right. These sound like a bad 70’s cop drama.” “Hey.” Hutch turned to mock glare at Lionel. “I resemble that remark.” He turned back to address Harold. “The bomb and the hit men were all state of the art.”

“No.” Finch waved to let in a car to his right. “They were the best money could buy. The threats could be the only link directly to the head man. He knows Starsky from Bay City. This man or woman has been out of touch with both the Captain and modern society.” 

Harold looked at Fusco in the rear view mirror. “He doesn’t know the recent players in politics or the mafia, no modern connections to Starsky’s present day life is mentioned. No computer hacking or e-mails.” 

“That’s good Harold.” Kenneth sat back in his seat and rubbed his throat reflectively “It would take days to have our old records sent. My memory isn’t bad yet, but some cases Starsky worked without me after ’82. I have no information on his childhood. It could take a week to sort through who is still alive and might be behind this.”

Finch smiled. “If the cases have been scanned into a database, I can retrieve them.”

Kenneth shot a look at Finch. “Hmm, tech geek I remember.”

*~*~*

Different movers met them at the gates and began unpacking their bags. Finch invited everyone to explore the safe house.

The safe house could more accurately be called a mansion. Two master bedrooms plus several guest rooms. There was a fully stocked library of course, a study and a conservatory. Starsky felt they were playing a live action game of ‘Clue’ when he got a look at the fully staffed kitchen and dining room. The Captain was assured by Finch that the staff was all bonded and thoroughly checked out. Fusco complained that he wouldn’t be cooking. Harold smiled and informed everyone that the staff was just here to set everything up. Laundry and maid services would only be coming by once a week.

They all gathered in the lavish living room with a huge television carefully hidden behind a cabinet that looked about four hundred years old.

Finch clapped his hands to get everyone’s attention. “Your luggage has been dropped off in your rooms. Kenneth and Captain Starsky will have the east facing master bedroom with en suite bath. Detective Carter’s room is across the hall from there with a powder room for her use. Mr. Reese will have to bunk with me or share the west wing bath with Detective Fusco. So, Mr. Reese and I will be in the western master bedroom since there is a large couch and spare cot.” Harold tried to ignore Kenneth’s knowing smirk and Fusco’s snort. “This way everyone will have their own bathroom since Reese and I are used to sharing one. If you need anything, please do not hesitate to inform me.”

Everyone started off to inspect their rooms. Finch took John’s arm. “Mr. Reese? Kenneth and Detective Fusco agree with my assessment of the threats. They are dated and are probably directly from the one behind this, who is well financed but has been out of society for at least thirty years.”

Starsky and Hutch stopped to listen in. Carter and Fusco noticed the little huddle forming and made their way over to the group.

“Alright, where does that get us?” Reese asked.

Harold took a deep breath, aware he was being observed. “Well, if they aren’t involved in any of the Captain’s recent cases, then they must need him taken out for either a personal reason, which isn’t likely since they hired out their hit men. Or to continue something that was interrupted in the late 70’s or early 80’s. Which I believe is the case.”

Starsky interrupted. “That’s a leap don’t you think?”

Finch turned to the Captain. “Not really. This person seems to know a lot about you to a point, but nothing about the move back to New York or your relationship with Kenneth. That is strange. It was almost national news when Councilman Jason Tortelli outed both of you in an effort to win his re-election five years ago.”

The Captain looked like he wanted to spit. “That S.O.B. almost cost me my job!”

Harold looked at Kenneth with a fondness not lost on Starsky. “And almost cost the city a fierce advocate for the underdog in the Council.”

Reese was becoming uncomfortable with the silent communication between Hutch and Harold. “Ok, Starsky, Finch, and Hutch can work on that angle. Fusco needs to get settled and sleep. Carter and I will work the perimeter until I need to pick up Harold’s computers.”

Starsky and Hutch went to put away their luggage, while Lionel went to bed. Finch nodded to Carter and passed her to grab John’s elbow hoping this time their conversation could remain private. What was he thinking living with all these detectives? Reese got the message and ushered them both into the study. 

Once Harold was certain they were alone, he handed John a photograph of a handsome, smiling young man attending what appeared to be a book signing. “My personal assistant will meet you on West 35th Street between 5th and 6th Avenue. There’s a bar called ‘The Playwright Irish Pub’. He’s in his late 30’s with sandy blond hair.” Harold tapped the photo. “His name is Robert and has been with me since he graduated with a Master’s in literature.” Finch looked Reese straight in the eyes. “Please do not antagonize him. He is responsible for most of my first editions. He will exchange cars with you. My suits and toiletries will be in the trunk, as well as a supply of my meds. My laundry has been placed in your car. Robert knows how to handle Mr. Wren’s affairs.”

John glanced at the picture again, then slipped it into his jacket pocket. “As long as that is all he handles.” 

“John, honestly!” Harold was surprised at the jealousy John displayed lately. Surely Reese knew that of the two of them, John was the more desirable. If anyone should be jealous it was old, crippled Harold. “He is straight. Even if he wasn’t, I doubt he would give me a second glance. I’m his much older boss after all, and he is a very handsome man.

Reese wrapped his arms around Finch’s waist and nuzzled the right sideburn with his nose. “So you’re saying younger, handsome employees do nothing for you?” 

Finch felt the heat of John’s body evaporate his higher brain functions. “I, I wouldn’t say that.”

Reese brought his lover closer and mouthed at the sensitive spot behind Harold’s ear. “Well, this employee thinks his boss is the sexiest thing he’s seen in years.” John burrowed his hands under Finch’s jacket and palmed the smaller man’s delicious ass. “This ok?” 

“What?” Harold was in a daze. John’s nearness was so intoxicating. “Oh yes. I think we can dispense with the rules. You’ve let me dictate what happens and that has calmed me. I feel confident in touching you but…” The older man buried his pink face in the strong column of John’s throat. “I don’t think I’m capable of being naked in front of you yet. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Reese brushed his lips against the soft spiky hair. “One step at a time. Can I get you off this time? Over your clothes?”

Harold’s head snapped up almost hitting John’s chin. “The stain! I have to walk out of this room.”

John laughed softly. “You can hold your jacket over your crotch, or I can stand in front of you till we get to our room.” The younger man bent his head to suck at the vulnerable neck. “Or we can go to the bedroom with both of us hard as nails.” John punctuated this statement with a jerk of his hips to press his straining erection against Harold’s matching arousal.

Harold gasped at the sensation and shut his eyes tight. “Bedroom.”

Reese had the door unlocked and both of them out of it in record time. John had seen the layout of the place during his own inspection when they arrived. He deposited Finch in the west wing master bedroom and left him with a kiss. He found Carter in her room unpacking. He quietly knocked on the door frame keeping his lower body out of sight. “Carter, Finch and I need a moment. You can cover Starsky till we finish, right?”

The beautiful woman’s face crumbled in a mixture of suspicion and curiosity. “Sure. No problem.” 

Reese patted the wall lightly. “Thanks.” The former agent made his swift escape before any questions could be asked. When he arrived at their bedroom, John hesitated; their bedroom. Finch may have had to stretch the truth to Carter and Fusco, but he had made it a point to bunk with Reese. John felt such love and tenderness swell up inside him that he wanted to crow to the world. 

The wonderful, sensitive, reserved and private man who had saved him wanted to be his lover. Harold was pushing his own boundaries and allowing Reese more access to the billionaire than anyone had ever been shown. It was an honor and heavy responsibility. John couldn’t afford to let lust tear this fragile love apart. He needed to remember that not so long ago, just the idea of being allowed to kiss and hold Finch was deemed impossible.

With a steadying breath, Reese opened the door and stepped inside. Harold was sitting on the bed nervously. He had removed his jacket and shoes. The vest was still on but both sleeves had been rolled up to the elbows on his shirt. John leaned his long body against the door admiring his lover and locking them inside. “How can any man look so damn sexy in a waistcoat and glasses?”

Predictably Harold blushed. Reese slinked over to kneel in front of Finch. Eager to worship at the altar of Harold, Reese pushed off his jacket and kicked his own shoes out of the way, setting his gun and holster on the night stand. 

When John ran both of his wide, large palms up and down Harold’s thighs, the older man bit his lip. Finch looked up briefly, then said. “I want you in my mouth. Can we try that?”

Reese jerked, then stilled. “Jesus Harold, you need to warn me when you’re going to say things like that.”

Finch quirked a tiny smile. “Sorry.” 

John ducked his head until Finch made eye contact. “Your mouth is going to feel fantastic, but what about your injuries?” Reese carefully cupped and massaged Harold’s neck.

Harold quickly kissed John, then stood and walked over to point at a blank section of wall next to a sturdy chair. “If you stand here, I can kneel in front of you.” Finch turned to look at the wall with his head bowed slightly. “I might not be able to, to bob my head as fast as you’ll need. If I can’t bring you to orgasm then you’ll have to finish like the hand job.”

John rose and tried to control the heat that was spreading through him at just the idea of Finch touching him in such a new and exciting way. “It takes practice.” Reese met his lover at the wall and circled the soft waist with his arms. “Don’t be so hard on yourself.” John turned his captive to face him. “You’re progressing faster than I could have hoped.” 

The taller man swooped down to gather those downturned lips in a passionate kiss. John felt he could devour Finch here and now. His tongue delved deep as he sucked any flavor or scent of Harold he could find. When John was sure he had tasted the entirety of his lover, he pulled back with a wet smack to admire the now puffy and red lips. “You sure about this? Want me to get you off first?”

Finch had his eyes closed and a blissed out look upon his face. After a few seconds he realized he was asked a question. “No, I mean yes I am sure, and no. I want you to be satisfied first. In case I can’t.” 

Harold laid his head on the broad chest and tried to sync his breathing to the sturdy beat of John’s heart. “I’ve never climaxed in front of anyone before. I might not be able to, to be that open just yet.”

John petted the beloved head and tried to control his own breathing. Harold was trusting Reese with so much. It was hard to remember a time when the former agent had thought that simply knowing where Finch lived or who his employer was before the machine would bring him closer to truly knowing Finch. If Reese never learned Harold’s real name or saw the billionaire’s true home, the younger man knew that the reclusive genius had already exposed all of his important secrets.

Harold’s hands grew bolder in their caress as he became comfortable with the idea of what they were about to attempt. He gently maneuvered Reese with his back against the wall. The older man initiated a sweet, tentative kiss. His hands roamed over a back rippling with smooth muscles. He moved his touch down to the narrow waist then the lean hips to stroke the back of powerful thighs. Shyly, Harold reached up to unbutton his lover’s shirt. 

John wasn’t passive but he kept his hands above Finch’s waist. His head nestled on the warm rounded shoulder with kisses for any patch of skin he could lick or suck.

Harold pulled the tails of the white, crisp shirt up and out to fall open against the steely contours. Boldly, the recluse explored the silky bronze expanse of streamlined muscle that tapered down to a taut, flat stomach. The hot, dry skin quivered under hands skilled from decades of mastering keyboards and circuitry.

Impatient to expose all of his flesh to Finch’s innocent yet candid explorations, John briskly unfastened his cuffs and slipped the thin, soft material off the bunching muscles of his shoulders.

Harold let the appreciation and adoration show in his gaze as the magnificence of John Reese was revealed to his ardent stare. The corrugated sleekness of a flat abdomen was broken only by the rapid heaving of strong lungs. The pectorals were hard and tight with some barely visible hair encircling rigid nipples. His fingers itched to roam the virile chest. Realizing he had permission now, Harold smoothed his palms over all the lustrous, firm skin. 

Lost in his revere, Finch was unaware of the quickening beat of John’s heart. The flush that spread from the former agent’s chest converted all his blood to live electricity. When Harold pinched his right nipple, John gasped and shuddered.

The sound pulled Finch out of the haze that had dropped over his mind. Cautiously, deft fingers unbuckled John’s belt. Holding the slacks up with the left, Harold’s right hand unfastened the last button to run the zipper down, careful to keep the metal teeth away from sensitive skin. Finch slowly lowered the pants along with underwear as he kneeled with care to his right leg. The shorter man directed his lover to raise first the right, then the left foot to leave Reese naked save his socks. The long and lean legs shifted restlessly as Finch ruffled their sparse hair.

John was on fire. He tried to keep his urge to clutch at Finch under control. His fists bunched and released at his sides. The burning, eager erection had swollen painfully with the removal of his clothes. When Harold’s hands moved to John’s waist, he couldn’t help but look down. The sight of Finch on his knees gazing at the pulsing shaft with ardor, arousal and a sliver fear produced such raging lust that only the love and tenderness from earlier kept Reese still. “Are your knees ok? Can your leg hold that position?”

Harold looked up. “Of course John, it’s just like hemming your cuffs for that Wall Street number. You remember.”

Reese curved his wide palm around the side of Finch’s face and smiled. “How could I forget? I was terrified you’d noticed my dick trying to bust the seams.”

“Really?” Finch was shocked. “You, you were aroused by…”

“Finch!” John shook his head in bemusement. “You were on your knees in front of me. Your mouth was at the perfect angle for me to just imagine plunging my hot cock into that brilliant, expressive mouth.” He ran his fingers over the soft mouth. “Why did you think I protested so much and kept looking at the ceiling?”

Harold kissed the digits. “I thought you were just uncomfortable being fussed over.” Wickedly, Finch sucked two fingers into his mouth. He released them with a pop and smug expression. “If I had leaned forward and brushed my head against you or re-measured your inseam?”

John’s eyes had closed at the sight of Harold’s little display. “The cleaners would have had an emergency stain removal, along with a pressing.” He took a deep breath and looked down at his lover. “I’ve had tailoring done for every new dress uniform I’ve ever had. I was used to being ‘fussed’ over. What I wasn’t used to was one of my naughtiest fantasies coming true.”

Finch viewed his lover in all his glory with this new information. The thick cock was so hard the swelling had pulled the shaft up towards the flat quivering abs. Harold carefully gathered the heavy testicles in his left hand. He gently rolled them as his right hand circled John’s solid male heat, which was nearly purple at the tip. The thought of Reese being so turned on by geeky, awkward Finch was as bewildering as it was arousing.

Harold knew from research that would be embarrassing if anyone found out, that his mouth would not be able to encompass all of John’s length. Finch would need practice to take it all in and possibly deep throat the impressive manhood. But the point of this exercise wasn’t to dazzle his employee with his technique. Harold wanted to please John. 

Uncertainly, Finch leaned forward to lick the head. The same startling and different flavor was already present. Reese tensed up and let out a whoosh of air. Harold assumed that John would tell him if anything hurt or was unpleasant. He opened his mouth to let the tip rest on his lips. Finch carefully pushed his mouth over the head until his lips circled the ridges. He sucked lightly, bringing more of the fluid to his tongue. He pressed the flat, broad muscle against the divot where the glands meet. Again he sucked, causing a shudder to wrack the hard body above him. 

Harold tightened his fist at the base and pushed his head down until he touched his thumb with his bottom lip, then drew up to swirl his tongue around the head. He pulled off completely and tightened his wet lips. Finch pressed his mouth against the head and allowed it to pop into the vacuum of his jaw. John gave him a breathy ‘oh’ for that little trick. 

With spit to lubricate his motion, Finch slowly bobbed the small ring he had made of his mouth down to his hand, then back up until almost all of the head was out. He plunged back down to meet his fist. As his speed increased, Finch twisted his fist back and forth then up and down. That way John was getting sensation from tip to base. Harold never stopped massaging the testes in his left hand. 

Reese was in a state of bliss and ecstasy. Kneeling before him was his brave, sweet boss. Harold’s expressive and small mouth engulfed John completely. The thin, soft lips were stretched wide around his rigid fullness. Love welled up to choke the former agent and blur his vision of this beautiful, awe inspiring sight. Reese quickly dashed the tears away and used his left hand to steady Harold’s shoulder. He combed the fingers of his right hand through the tufts of fine hair on Finch’s head. He didn’t try to guide Harold. He just wanted to connect with this special man who was giving John everything the smaller man had. Reese was so very grateful that Finch had kept his glasses on. The sight before him would forever outclass any centerfold any publisher could conceive. 

Harold grew bolder. The fullness he was experiencing was heady. John’s erection filled his mouth completely. The stiff organ was heavy on his tongue. Saliva pooled, then dripped from his lips and slicked up his fist, to curve around the weighty sack and wet his left hand. He had a rhythm now. Fist and mouth set a motion that was steady and easy on his neck. His suction would pulse to an irregular beat. 

John never knew when Harold would hollow his cheeks and try to pull the orgasm out of him. The urge to thrust or sped up was overpowering, but Reese resisted. His greatest fear for the last year had been the thought of hurting Harold. The billionaire moaned, sending spikes of pleasure racing up his spine. Reese began to pant. His ass clenched and relaxed. When Finch stretched a spit slicked finger past his balls to rub his perineum, John groaned. “Finch!”

Harold looked up and met John’s hot gaze, yet never faltered in his rhythm. John seemed captivated by the stare and his face grimaced in pleasure. 

Reese fought to keep his eyes opened. There was Finch, bobbing up and down on John’s shaft looking straight at Reese. God, the erotic power of those sky blue eyes pierced the taller man to his core, showing such unparalleled devotion and worship to the former agent. 

The love, adoration and yearning for approval in Harold’s stare tore a primal roar from John’s throat. His orgasm was so overwhelming that Reese forgot to pull away or warn his novice lover. Never before had a climax been powerful enough to overcome years of silent pleasuring. His hands tightened on Finch as his destended flesh pumped out a continuous stream of semen. 

Harold was caught unawares when John growled and climaxed. The thick, viscous fluid filled his mouth to bursting. Finch didn’t know how to swallow, but didn’t want to deny his lover the full extent of his orgasm. The come dripped from the sides of his mouth as he continued to pump the spouting shaft with his hand. When it became too much, Harold had to pull his head away, leaving his fist to bring Reese over. The last two spurts splattered the shorter man’s face and glasses. 

Winded and sated, John released his hold on Harold. As lethargy threatened his knees, Reese remembered Finch had never done this before. Horror and fright brought John’s gaze to his beloved, fearing he had upset or disgusted Finch in his forgetfulness. The sight before him of Harold covered with semen on his face, glasses and dripping down his chin seized Reese with a wave of possessiveness unlike anything he had ever felt before. This small, intelligent and loyal man was his. 

To have his scent on Harold for every other person to see and smell was so powerful that John’s legs became stronger; his chest puffed out in what he would later think a ridiculous display. With care and tenderness, Reese gathered his mate in his arms. John supported most of Harold’s weight as he kissed that heavenly mouth. Reese wanted Finch to keep the come on his face for everyone to see, but knew that was not going to happen. With tiny licks and nips, John cleaned Harold’s face. He made small, involuntary growling noises in the back of his throat. When his lover was clean, John rubbed their noses together and removed the other man’s glasses. “You alright?” 

Finch gave a tight nod and Reese continued. “Sorry I didn’t warn you. It took me by surprise. Jesus you felt fantastic!” Reese dropped the glasses on the chair to his right. “Once I realized I was coming, it felt so good it stole my voice. I couldn’t think or speak. All I could do was feel, feel you and how much you love me.”

“I’m glad.” Harold rested his head on John’s shoulder and tightened the embrace. 

Reese nudged Finch with his shoulder. “You sure you’ve never done that before?”

Harold blushed and nodded. 

John laughed softly. “Well let me tell you if you ever need to rebuild your empire, that mouth could get you back on your feet in less than a week.” 

Before Harold could give an indignant reply, John smoothed a hand over his straining rod, giving Finch a rush of sensation to his neglected organ. The older man gasped and spoke his lover’s name in a hushed, imperative tone.

Reese wanted to go to his knees and return the favor, but Harold wasn’t comfortable with being naked just yet. Fearing for his lover’s injuries and remembering his own weak knees, Reese maneuvered them both over to the bed before they tumbled in a heap. He gently cradled Harold’s head and neck as he spread the man out on the bed. Finch probably couldn’t support much weight, but he needed friction. “Want to remove your pants? Just leave your shorts on?”

“I, I can’t. Not yet.” Harold covered his flaming face with his forearm.

“Ok, ok.” John rubbed his face against the shield of Harold’s arm. “Tell me if my touch is upsetting you.”

Reese kept his right arm under Finch and used his left to run hot currents of sensation down Harold’s legs and over his stomach. When his lover seemed to have calmed down enough to expose his face, John gave him a distracting kiss and palmed the swollen cock. Harold’s breath hitched as Reese firmed his grip. Reese felt anew the possessive urge to declare to the entire world that this man belonged to him and him alone.

Avidly, John watched the emotions play across his lover’s face with each pass of his hand. He worried about the fabric hurting Finch, but assumed having another’s touch would probably get Finch off soon. Harold clutched at John, panting and breathing out little moans. When Reese jerked the turgid shaft roughly, Finch mewed and whimpered beautifully.

John mauled those puffy lips with insistent, passionate kisses. He nipped and sucked the bottom lip into his mouth. As he increased his speed, both men panted into the mouth of the other. When Harold pulled his head to the side, John mouthed at his lover’s temple. Little words of encouragement and love were spoken in a hushed whisper along Finch’s jaw and neck. The tempo became unrelenting; Harold clawing his way to orgasm, John desperate to bring his lover over. 

Reese’s stare was fervent and wild. He seemed to be trying to will Finch to climax through his mind alone. 

Harold was lost in a new and novel consciousness. The waves of pleasure, bliss, joy and satisfaction pummeled him from all sides. Unlike the solitary explorations of his lonely life which usually centered on his groin, this feeling radiated out. His fingers tingled with it; his lungs ached for it, his thighs burned with it, every fiber of his being pulsed with ecstasy, elation and exultation.

Finally, Harold approached the precipice. With a grunt, he threw himself into the void. Stars twinkled in his sight as a white hot flash of delight and contentment battered his being. For the first time in over two years, no pain could touch him; only love and gratification. 

When his vision cleared, Finch became aware of Reese rocking them and petting his face. John’s words were endearing; full of caring and devotion. The younger man was smiling with no trace of his usual smirk or smugness. The former agent looked jubilant and happy. 

Harold’s breath caught in his throat at the adoration flowing from his lover. The recluse ran his palm over the tanned face. “Thank you.”

John nuzzled the hand and kissed the palm. “My pleasure.”

Both men were smiling like idiots when a knock at the door disturbed their afterglow.

Angrily Reese asked. “What?”

A clearing of a throat was heard then Hutch’s voice. “Um, lunch is ready. Thought you might have worked up an appetite.”

Harold turned four shades of red and John laughed. “Be there in ten minutes. Thanks.” 

*~*~*

After an interesting lunch where Finch wouldn’t make eye contact with anyone, Reese went to get the computers. Starsky joined Hutch and Harold in the living room to compile a list of suspects. Carter made the rounds of the compound, security monitor’s room and living room every hour.

Starsky threw down his pad and pen. “This could take days.”

Kenneth would have pulled some of his hair out if he had any. As it was he just ran his hand over his face. “If it gets this bastard off the streets and us back home safe and sound, what does it matter?”

“Exactly, we have the advantage now.” Finch pointed out. “You both will be guarded at all times. There is no way they succeed and we have time to find them and stop them.”

The Captain crossed his arms like a recalcitrant child. “I’m still not convinced this guy is someone I knew in the 70’s.”

“It’s a direction to go in.” Hutch was getting fed up with all of Starsky’s negativity. “If we find evidence that disproves the theory, we’ll drop it.”

“Alright, we have a list of names.” Harold tried to get the pair back on track. He understood both their frustrations. “I will research them when John comes back with my computers. If you want to compile a list using your own theory…” Harold’s phone made an unusual noise silencing the man instantly. He fished the device out of his pocket and gaped at it. Finally, he stood and walked to his study without a word of explanation.

Starsky looked at Hutch. “What the hell was that? Call from his boyfriend? If they are sexting, I do not want to know.”

*~*~*

After nearly an hour, Harold returned to find the couple playing video monopoly on the giant television. “Kenneth, may I borrow a moment of your time in the study?”

Hutch shrugged at Starsky and rose carefully with his cane. Finch turned and limped into his office with the taller man following behind him.

Finch closed the study door behind them and locked it. His laptop was on the desk and he returned to sit in front of it. “I need your advice about how to proceed with some sensitive information.” 

Hutch noticed that the younger man was agitated and preoccupied. “Alright.”

Harold shifted in his seat and refused to look at Hutch. “I want to assure you that my sources have never been wrong. Not once in seven years.”

Hutch pulled a chair next to Finch and sat. “Harold, just tell me.”

Finch sighed and turned his body to look at Kenneth in the eye. “I have received information that another person is in danger.” Harold’s speech quickened as if he needed to get this out before someone stopped him. “Again, I only have a name and as impossible as it seems, they are in danger, either as a victim or perpetrator. I know it seems unlikely…”

Hutch grabbed Finch. “Harold! Who?”

Finch hesitated, looking into Kenneth’s face. He hated to have to do this. “Nicholas Marvin Starsky.”

“Nick?” Hutch released Harold and looked around, bewildered. “Starsky’s brother?” He stood up and shook his head. “Nick’s dead. He died in a prison fire in 1982.”

Finch was desperate to have Kenneth on his side for this. “I know that is what you believe, but my sources say he is in danger. So, he must have survived somehow.”

“You’re sure?” Hutch looked over at the smaller man. “Of course you are or you wouldn’t have said anything.” Kenneth grabbed his head with both hands. “God, I don’t know how Starsky is going to take this.”

Harold stood and went to comfort his friend. “I’m sorry.” Harold placed his hand on Kenneth’s lower back, trying to give some support. “But given my initial introduction to Captain Starsky, I thought it best to have you help me figure out a way to tell him that not only is his younger brother alive, but he is in danger.”

“Call him David.” Hutch turned to his friend who was so kind and so sensitive. Harold looked more distraught than Hutch. “I already asked him if you could.” Kenneth smiled at Finch.

Hutch’s face darkened when he remembered everything Nick had put them through. “You know this is so fucking typical of Nick: Always making trouble, always coming in at the worst possible time to fuck with everyone’s life, never caring about anyone but himself.”

Kenneth braced himself on the bureau against the wall. “God it was a relief to me when he died.” He turned back to Harold, ashamed to have admitted that awful feeling he had in ’82. “At least that way Rachel and Starsky could grieve properly and all at once. No more agonizing over him. No more disappointments. No more dreading the next phone call about Nick’s screw ups.”

Ken made his way over to his chair and slumped down into it. “Starsky took leave to be with Rachel. I feared he would stay with her.” He looked at Harold with such sadness in his eyes. “Instead, she came out to LA. Said the old apartment just reminded her too much of Nick and Michael, her late husband. She spent six months with us.” 

The blond held his head in his hands as Finch limped over to take his own seat. The pair were quiet for a few minutes letting Hutch regain his composure. 

Kenneth heaved a loud breath and stared at Harold’s face. “That was when Starsk told her about us. I was so scared she would hate him or make him choose.” Tears welled up in the tender man’s eyes. “Instead she was supportive. She wasn’t happy that she wouldn’t be getting any grandkids. But, after we introduced her to my little brother Kiko from the Big Brother program and Molly, a runaway we sometimes fostered, she figured she could spoil them just as much.” 

Kenneth smiled at Finch. “She taught me about her religion. I didn’t hold much stock in my own, but this was Starsky’s heritage as much as a religion. I loved it, the rituals and history. There is none so zealous as the recently converted.” 

The taller man wiped his eyes and sighed. “That was why she asked us to move in with her.” Hutch held his head in his hands. “The only kind and selfless act Nick ever committed was dying.” The distraught man raised tired, grieving eyes to his friend. “Now even that he’s taken away from his brother.”

Hutch slammed his fist on the desk. “Goddamn him!”

“Kenneth.” The recluse gently took his friend’s hand to look for any injuries. “I’m sorry to have to do this to both of you.” He calmly passed his palm over the big hand, soothing the bruises. “But if I have his number then he is in danger.” 

Harold looked into the distressed face and hated the whole situation. “Before John goes out to find him, I need to know what Nick is like. I won’t send John out there blind.” The billionaire‘s gaze hardened. “Would Nick accept John’s help or fight it? Will he be the perpetrator or the victim? I must know.”

Hutch patted Harold’s arm with his free hand. “Nick was convicted of armed robbery of a bank in Jersey. It was a four man team but the Feds figured someone else was pulling the strings. Nick’s not smart or patient enough to plan anything.” 

He looked down trying to think. Reese needed as much dispassionate information as possible. “But insinuating himself with big time criminals and hoods was his thing. He wanted everybody to think he was a player. I doubt he was the one to plan the escape either. Hiding out like this for so long wouldn’t be easy for him. So, he must still be in contact with whoever planned the heist.” 

“Will he be a danger to John?” Finch urged.

“If he is the victim it’s because his cohorts have turned on him or discovered he has betrayed them.” Kenneth nodded at Finch. “So, Nick will be a danger to himself and Reese.”

*~*~*

“No way in hell!” Starsky shouted at Harold as everyone except Lionel gathered around the dining room table. “Nick died in ’82. How dare you try to manipulate us like this? You have no idea who you’re messing with. I won’t have you dragging out all this dirty laundry to further whatever your game is.”

“Starsky!” Hutch grabbed his lover about the shoulders to shake some sense into him. “What would it gain them? John and Harold knew you were in danger from the same sources. If Harold says Nick’s alive, then I believe him. Now what are we going to do about it? We both know Nick couldn’t have planned that heist on his own. Just sit down and shut the hell up.”

“Hutch.” The curly head slumped onto his lover’s shoulder. “He’s been alive this whole time?” A teary eyed Starsky looked into his partner’s face with sadness. “How could he do that to Ma?” He pulled away from Hutch and wiped his eyes. “To me? God, she never got over that. It was terrible. You were there. How could he do this?”

“I know babe.” Hutch circled his lover’s waist from behind. “I’m sorry.” The blond laid his forehead on his partner’s back. “You remember what Nick was like, selfish and willing to take shortcuts through other people’s hearts if it got him the big score.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Starsky swallowed hard and turned in the embrace. “God I’ll kill him for this.”

Finch shifted in his seat and pushed his glasses up his nose. “I am sorry to have to tell you this, but it cannot be a coincidence that your brother’s name comes up after several attempts on your life.”

Hutch looked over at Harold. “What are you saying?”

“I might be wrong.” The billionaire tapped the table absently not making eye contact. “But Nick disappeared around the same time whoever is bankrolling this would have gone into hiding.

Starsky’s face grew angry and he took a step towards Harold. “You think my own brother put a hit out on me?”

“No.” Finch looked up. “I think whoever planned the original bank robbery and managed to fake Nick’s death is the same man who has been trying to kill you.”

“Wait a minute!” Starsky made a lunge for Harold but Reese grabbed the Captain and slammed the older man in a chair.

“Sit down.” John got right in Starsky’s face. “It makes sense. Some big time boss gets your brother and three other goons to do the heist.” Reese stepped back to lean against the wall behind Finch. “They keep their mouths shut and get the reward of a prison break. They come out clean. But for some reason Nick and his boss have to go into hiding for thirty years. Maybe they went to a country with no extradition. There they continue their criminal enterprise.” He looked out the window scanning the courtyard as he continued. “The society there was probably backwards and the team didn’t get a lot of western culture. That says to me that the boss was waiting for something. Like a statute of limitation to run out. Now that his time has passed, they can continue what they started in ’82.

Carter spoke up for the first time. “Armed robbery of a federally insured bank has no statute of limitations.” She looked to Reese then to Starsky. “There are a few states, Jersey included, that have a thirty year or more limitation.” She bit her lip then sighed. “Most of them sadly involve sexual abuse of minors.”

Hutch sat down next to his partner stunned. “So whoever funded Nick’s heist and stowed him away for the last thirty years is probably a child molesting psychopath with major financial ties?”

“Quite possibly.” Carter nodded.

“Great!” Starsky exclaimed. “But why now and why me?”

Nervously Harold spoke. “I have a theory.”

“Of course you do.” The Captain crossed his arms angrily.

“Starsk!” Kenneth grabbed at his lover roughly. “I swear to god if you don’t get it together and help us, I will leave you when all this is over.”

“Aw geez Hutch.” Starsky pouted.

“Be polite!” The Councilman pointed a finger at his partner. “Especially to Harold.”

When it seemed the Captain was finally willing to listen, Finch explained. “Nick doesn’t know that you and Kenneth are essentially married. I assume that as a lawyer, Kenneth has made sure that under the law you are in a position that gives each of you the same rights as a spouse.”

“Correct.” Hutch nodded “We basically adopted each other in the early 80’s.”

Harold sat back. “So if anything happens to David, his estate goes to you.”

Starsky crossed his arms again. “Such as it is yeah. So?”

Reese wanted to slap the Captain. “Nick and his boss don’t know that. They would have assumed that when Starsky goes, all his assets would go to the next of kin.”

Carter grimaced. “Which would be his brother, who miraculously came back from the dead.”

John nodded at the woman. “Most people in New York wouldn’t know that Nick was supposed to be in prison. It would be a risk, but he could write to Starsky’s lawyers and claim his inheritance quickly before anyone did some digging.”

Harold continued. “All he would need is the keys to whatever storage place held what they wanted. It’s a reasonable assumption that your New York lawyers would have no way of knowing the circumstances of Nick’s incarceration. By contacting your lawyer via e-mail or post, he could set it up in such a way that he meets at the law offices, then gathers the keys. One day's risk for whatever the have been waiting thirty years to get."

“But what do they want?” Kenneth looked over at Starsky.

“Who was Nick’s beneficiary in ’82?” Reese asked.

Starsky shrugged and relaxed his defensive posture. “Ma.”

Harold quietly asked. “Who was Rachel’s when she passed.”

“Me.” A light bulb practically formed over the curly man’s head. “Oh crap! I never even looked at all that stuff. Just paid the rent on the storage unit Ma had.” Starsky looked over at Reese. “You think whatever they want is there?”

It was Harold who answered. “I do.”

*~*~*


	14. Chapter 14

Reese took charge after the briefing. The former agent would help set up Harold’s computers, then start shaking down the local criminals for information on Nicholas Starsky. Carter would be keeping guard until seven p.m. when Lionel woke up. 

John didn’t expect to be back before two a.m. and made arrangements with Harold. “You need to find any known associates of Nick’s. No matter how thin the connection, I need to know.”

“Of course, David and Kenneth can start a list.” Finch abandoned his newly restored monitors and computers to stand by Reese. “I can research the original bank robbery for the accomplices and their associates. Hopefully most are still alive.”

“Good, good.” Reese was distracted. The taller man kept checking and rechecking his phone and sneaking furtive glances at his employer. “If anything happens, I want to be informed immediately.”

“John.” Harold’s tone was patient and indulgent. “I’ve been taking care of myself for nearly fifty years. Go, find Nick.”

Reese nodded repeatedly. “I know you’re capable, I just…”

Finch stepped closer to the taller man and wrapped his arms around the slim waist. “You just feel better when you know I am only a room away.”

“Yeah.” Reese held his lover for a long moment, just soaking up all of the man’s warmth and presence. “I love you.” John gently bumped his forehead against Harold’s. “We have a job to do, but I can’t do that with you at risk. If I lost you I would never recover. The numbers need me whole.” The younger man looked into the piercing blue eyes of his redeemer with sincerity and pleading. “You are that last missing piece of me. If you aren’t there, the whole thing tumbles down like a house of cards.”

“It’s a lot of responsibility, but I feel I am up to the task.” Harold smirked. “Remember Mr. Reese, you are my missing piece too. It wouldn’t matter if I survived just to be broken all over again without you.”

John kissed the older man quickly and gathered his coat. “I’ll remember.”

Swiftly, lest he linger and abandon his mission, Reese left through the bedroom door. 

*~*~*

“Lists and lists and more lists.” Starsky complained. “What the hell is Owl Man doing?”

“Starsk.” Hutch sighed. “Is it too much to ask to call him Harold? All these stupid nicknames are getting old.”

“Aww come on Hutch.” The Captain grinned. “It’s funny and charming. You know that.”

Hutch tapped his partner’s notebook. “Just keep trying to remember Nick’s friends. I’ll go check on Harold.” As the blond limped off, he muttered. “Never should have bought you that box set of ' _Lost_ '. Should have known you’d identify with Sawyer.” 

The bedroom door was closed, so Kenneth knocked. “Harold, it’s Hutch. May I come in?”

Harold’s muffled voice rang out. “Of course.” 

Ken pushed open the door to see Finch closing windows quickly on a monitor to the billionaire’s right. The other screens had Nick’s arrest record, the mug shots of Nick’s accomplices and what looked like the original report about the printing plate case when Nick visited LA in 1979.

“I don’t think I want to know how you have access to those.” Kenneth smirked as he made his way to the chair next to Finch. “What did you not want me to see? Naked pictures of John?”

“No!” Harold pinked up just as Hutch expected. “I’m researching something personal. It won’t interfere I promise. I can multi-task my searches.”

“Harold.” Hutch laid his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I would be an incredible ingrate if I expected you to dedicate all your waking hours to solving this case. One of the hardest lessons I had to learn as a cop was to reserve time for myself, unless it was a matter of life or death. Starsky and I are under guard and safe. It’s nice of you and John to help strangers in trouble, but don’t spend all your time on it. I’m sure your new relationship needs your attention sometimes.”

Finch dipped his head in acknowledgment. “Thank you.”

“If I’m not being too nosey, how is it going?” Kenneth sat back. “Still convinced you can’t have a romantic life?”

“John shares my goal, which is helpful.” Finch looked down at the keyboard. “It has been an uphill battle starting this new side of our liaison, but John feels it is worth it.” Harold looked over to let Kenneth see his sincerity. “He has been extremely patient with my needs.”

Hutch nodded slowly. “But you fear his patience will run out?”

“I.” Finch started then took a deep breath. “Maybe speaking to you will give me a new unbiased perspective.”

Kenneth assessed the other man seriously. “I would hope you know that you are free to ask me anything.”

“Yes, I do.” Finch shifted in his seat to look at Hutch. “But this is extremely personal and… embarrassing.”

“Harold.”

Finch interrupted quickly. “You’re gay, but you were married twice.”

Ken was taken aback by the seemingly random question. “Yes. Minnesota in the 50’s and 60’s, then the police department in the 70’s forced me in the closet. I also hoped I could ‘fix’ myself. I fell in love with Starsky in the early 70’s and tried damn hard to cover it up by sleeping around with anything female.”

Finch nodded absently. “But you knew, deep down, that you were gay?”

“Yes.” Hutch eyed Harold speculative.

Harold bit his lip then asked. “Was David your first?”

“No, but I am Starsky’s first.” Again Hutch had no idea what this had to do with Harold’s problem, but obliged the younger man. “My best friend in high school introduced me to the circle jerk. I was in love with him, but he saw it more like making do until he convinced a girl to do it instead of me.”

Finch’s eyes widened. “That sounds horrible.”

“Jack didn’t know I was gay.” Hutch smiled. “I didn’t really explore my homosexuality until Berkeley, and only after Nancy left me.”

“Were you nervous your first time?” Finch had his head down.

“Yes, but excited too.” Ken leaned forward. “My first ‘boyfriend’ was experienced and older.” Hutch took a deep breath. “Harold, have you never been with a man before?”

Finch still refused to raise his head. “Please don’t laugh.”

Kenneth laid his arm around the slumped shoulders of his friend. “I wouldn’t.”

Haltingly, the smaller man explained. “I’ve never had sex with anyone: male or female.”

“Really?” Hutch’s eyebrows rose high. “You’re what? Forty-five?”

“Fifty-eight.”

Astonishment colored Kenneth’s features. “And you’ve never… Why? Any particular reason?”

“Yes. No. The why is unknown.” Harold finally looked up. “I was researching possible reasons when you came in.”

“I can see why you said Reese was being patient.” A sudden concern darkened Ken’s face. “He’s not pushing you is he?”

“No.” Harold shook his head swiftly. “In fact he has cautioned me every step of the way. He is afraid I am pushing myself. But you see, I have no problem with being intimate. We have gone slowly and the panic attacks I experienced before are no longer there because John has let me decide how far we go.” 

Finch swallowed audibly and blushed. “The problem seems to not be the sex act, as I had once thought. I can even climax in front of John. I just can’t bear the thought of being naked in front of him.”

Hutch thought he might know what the problem was. “After the shooting, Starsky wouldn’t take his shirt off for years. He was afraid the scars would have me running for the door.”

Harold looked miserably over at the blond. “This problem has plagued me for decades, long before the accident.”

“Oh.” Kenneth was stuck. “You said you can be intimate. Can you tell me what exactly bothers you?”

Finch shifted in his seat. “I am comfortable with John being completely naked and I have no anxiety about… touching him intimately. John touched me over my clothes and I received satisfaction that way.” Harold became agitated and pleading. “But just the idea of, of undressing in front of him even in the dark causes a deep, irrational panic to well up.”

Ken soothed as best he could. “What do you think will happen if you are nude in front of him? That he won’t want you anymore?”

“When I contemplate John seeing me, really seeing me, I panic.” Finch removed his glasses and covered his tired eyes. “I am convinced that he will be appalled and… I know it’s irrational and will not happen, but I fear he will be so disgusted by my person that he will leave me. Completely leave, never to see me again. Disappear. Or worse, that he might punish me for being dirty.”

That phraseology caught Hutch’s attention. “Dirty? You think you’re dirty?”

“Yes.” Harold stated loudly and angrily. “I am sickening, naughty, filthy, and sinful.”

“Harold!” Hutch became alarmed at the vehemence of Harold’s reaction. “Who told you that you were dirty?”

Finch stood quickly and jerkily, toppling his chair over. “No one needed to tell me. I am! I’m bad, a bad dirty boy!”

“Ok. Ok.” Hutch stood as well. He needed to calm Finch down. That last outburst would have the whole house running to see what happened. “Just calm down.”

“No!” Finch shouted. “You don’t understand! I’m naughty and perverted.” Harold scrambled over to the bed hugging himself. “I want disgusting, sordid things. I’m bad!” 

A knock on the door and Starsky’s muffled inquiry had Hutch racing to intervene. He cracked it open just enough to see his partner’s worried face. “Everything’s fine, Babe.”

Starsky’s brow was creased with concern. “I heard shouting. Is Harold alright?”

“Yeah.” Hutch looked back to see Finch rocking himself and muttering. “Just… give us some privacy.”

“Ok.” It was obvious the brunet was reluctant to leave. “Tell me if we need to get John.”

“I will.” Hutch smiled. “Thanks lover.”

Kenneth closed the door and assessed the situation. Harold Finch, fifty-eight year old virgin, smart, genius level smart. Harold didn’t seem the hysterical type. The phrase ‘dirty boy’ was sending red flags up all over the room. He would have to proceed carefully. Obviously there was some trauma here that Finch hadn’t wanted to tackle so his mind had obscured it. Harold’s relationship with John and the desire to share with a lover was tapping into this long buried memory. Hutch wasn’t expecting this to be pleasant, but maybe after all was said and done, Harold would have some peace.

“Harold.” 

The man on the bed scurried back to the mound of pillows and grabbed one. “Go away.”

Hutch raised both hands up to show he wasn’t armed. Carefully, Ken slipped off his shoes and slowly approached the bed. “Harold, you know me. You know I would never hurt you or hate you, right?”

Finch faced Kenneth and nodded slowly so Hutch crept closer. “I am your friend and I just want to help. Now I have always found you to be a good boy: clean, polite and sweet.”

Harold blinked at Hutch owlishly. “You think I’m a good boy?”

Hutch nodded and continued to talk to Harold as he would a child. “Yes I do. I think you are a very good boy. One of the best boys I have ever met.”

Finch relaxed his death grip on the pillow and said in a small, childlike voice. “Really?”

Kenneth carefully sat on the edge of the bed. “Yes I do. I have never seen a boy who was as nice and as good as you. Now who told you that you were a dirty boy?”

Round blue eyes filled with tears. “Momma.”

Hutch grimaced. Figures. “Why did Momma think you were dirty?”

“Cause I’m a boy.” Harold said in a tone that clearly expressed how dumb he thought Kenneth was. “I have a filthy, yucky penis. I want to do things that are wrong with my penis!”

Ken took a deep breath. “Harold do you think I’m bad?”

“No.” The younger man shook his head vigorously. “You’re nice.”

“I’m a boy.” Hutch gestured to his body. “I have a penis. Am I bad?”

“No.” Wide eyes crumbled in confusion. “But Momma said I was bad.”

Carefully, Hutch drew a conclusion that could upset Harold. “Momma made a mistake. You are a good boy.”

Harold’s eyes widened and he bit his lip. Soon he began to cry. 

Kenneth scooped the smaller man into his arms. “You’re a good boy. A very good boy.” Hutch crooned and rocked Harold for several minutes until the tears stopped.

Kenneth looked down into the red features and watery eyes. “Feeling better?”

The billionaire buried his hot face in Ken’s shoulder. “Oh my God I am so embarrassed. I can’t believe…”

“Don’t be.” Hutch shook the body in his arms. “Can you tell me what that was all about?”

“Yes.” Finch took a deep shuddering breath and sat back. “I remembered my mother calling me dirty. She wanted a girl. The only reason she married and, and had sex was to get a girl. When I was born she was disappointed. She continued to try and conceive. She never carried any of the pregnancies past five months.” Harold looked down at his hands. “I was an only child. When I was older, five or six, she started telling me I was a dirty boy and that my penis was evil and filthy.” Finch stared at Kenneth in bewilderment. “Oh God. I can’t believe I forgot this.”

Softly, Hutch murmured. “The mind tries to protect us.”

Finch seemed confused but continued. “She died when I was eight. I guess I wanted to remember her as the sweet woman who made me cookies.” Harold stared off into the distance. His gaze was unfocused. Kenneth let the younger man have some time to assimilate what just happened.

After a few minutes, the recluse shook himself and took a deep breath. “As an adult, I see that all those miscarriages took their toll. She must have had a nervous breakdown at some point. She seemed alright to everyone else. I never told even my father about her behavior.”

Sadness overwhelmed Harold’s voice. “It came as such a shock to everybody when she…killed herself. Post partum depression I think.”

Hutch nodded. “And probably hints of paranoid delusion but most likely the depression caused her psychosis. She wanted children, girls; a nice and normal dream. When she kept conceiving and losing the babies she couldn’t cope.” Ken sighed. “The late 50’s and early 60’s wouldn’t have been kind to a woman going through such a deep depression. She might have viewed your father as the cause of her inability to carry a child to term except for you. As a housewife she would have been unable to leave him or rage against her husband. So, she transferred all her delusions onto a safer object: you.” 

Finch frowned. “I can see being angry and having only me as the outlet but why all this ‘dirty penis’ talk?”

The blond patted Harold’s thigh. “It was a penis that put those ‘bad’ pregnancies inside her. She could have viewed all males as the cause of her distress.” They were silent as they absorbed this proposal. 

Suddenly struck with some insight, Hutch offered another theory. “There is the possibility that she was so delusional and paranoid that she convinced herself that you had somehow ruined her womb.” He shook his head sadly. “We’ll never know for sure.”

Harold leaned his head back against the wall. “I know but I can’t help but wish I had remembered this earlier.”

Hutch nodded. “Well, it’s my belief that as you said, you blocked it to preserve her memory.” 

The older man looked at Finch from out of the corner of his eye. “I have a feeling that when you went through puberty and figured out you were attracted to males, you saw that as validating her rants. To you, your penis was wrong and dirty. It did want something perverted; at least to the society you were living in. Those panic attacks you experienced were the manifestation of the conflict between what you wanted and what you thought was right.”

Finch stared at Hutch for a beat then nodded himself. “Thank you Kenneth. I am so sorry I broke down like that.”

Ken smiled. “I’m not. I’m glad I was here.” He tilted his head. “Are you still worried about John’s reaction to your nudity?”

The smaller man looked at his hands resting on his legs. “As irrational as it seems: yes. Not nearly as much as before, but I am anxious. I’ve never been naked in front of someone.”

“Never?” Kenneth looked skeptical. “What about the doctors and nurses?”

Embarrassed, Finch murmured. “Money buys privacy.”

Hutch took a deep breath. “I have a suggestion but you won’t like it and you can’t ever tell Reese.”

Harold raised an eyebrow. “What?”

Ken shrugged. “You could undress in front of me and I can verify that you aren’t some mutant or the spawn of the devil.”

Finch was surprised at the offer. He seemed to mull over the idea. At last, he hesitantly spoke up. “I, I think I should. It will help to calm my nerves when John and I are intimate.”

The older man smiled kindly. “Ok. Well do you want to change into sleepwear or just drop your pants?”

Harold smiled ruefully at Ken but then sobered. “I’m exhausted. I’ll get my pajamas out and you can…inspect me when I change.”

Hutch watched the other man shift off the bed. “Fine” 

As casually as possible, Kenneth observed Harold’s nightly routine. The little man was orderly, tidy but not OCD. The Freudian in Hutch itched to ask about Finch’s toilet training but he manfully refrained. 

When all the busy work was done, Harold turned to Ken with trepidation. He grimaced but started to undress. 

Hutch sat up and scooted to the edge of the bed to allow his feet to drift to the floor. Kenneth kept his eyes obviously averted to keep Finch at ease for as long as possible. 

When Hutch heard his friend start to breathe heavily, Kenneth placed a hand over his own eyes and said loudly. “I won’t see a thing until you tell me to uncover my eyes.”

Harold laughed nervously but continued to undress. Finally the bedroom went silent. Only the quiet breathing of the two men could barely be heard.

With a quiver in his voice, Finch said. “You c-can l-look now.”

Standing before Hutch was a fidgeting Finch. The man was pink with embarrassment and anxiety from his head to his cute pot belly. 

Hutch smiled and softly spoke. “Since I love a hairy chest, I can honestly say you are beautiful.”

Harold seemed to deflate in on himself right where he stood. Hutch quickly rose to catch the relieved man before he fell to the floor. Finch clutched at Kenneth and sobbed into the blond’s shirt. Again Hutch found himself rocking his friend. 

Praying that neither Starsky nor Reese would walk in at this moment, Ken said. “I see nothing wrong with your body and I know the male physique.”

After a few hitching breathes, Harold stared up into Ken’s face with confusion.

Hutch shrugged. “I was a bit of a slut in college.” 

They both stared at each other for a moment.

Then burst into silly laughter.

When they both could catch their breathes, Harold said. “Let me get dressed before John shows up.”

Ken helped the smaller man stand. “Please. I like my kneecaps.”

Finch dressed quickly but without the nervousness of his disrobing. When the billionaire was fully clothed, he hesitantly turned to Ken. “Can I ask you to stay the night? I don’t feel up to sleeping alone and John is needed to find David’s brother.”

Hutch smiled and went to hug the other man. “That’s fine. Let me get changed and tell Fusco to warn Reese before G.I. John gets convicted of manslaughter.” 

With a soothing pat to Harold’s shoulder, Hutch left the room. 

*~*~*

When John got to the hall in front of their bedroom, Fusco and Starsky were blocking his way. “What’s happened?” Fear spiked up from his gut at the thought of what could have happened to have these two guarding Harold’s door at four in the morning.

“Nothing.” Fusco shrugged. “Just wanted to tell you what to expect when you go in there.”

John stared hard at the Detective. “If nothing’s happened then I don’t need to be briefed.”

“Well, see.” Lionel looked over at Starsky. “It’s just that Hutch is sleeping in there with Harold.”

Reese charged both of them with no finesse, just raw, silent dread. Fusco and Starsky grabbed at the taller man trying to get him under control without waking the men on the other side of the door.

Starsky spoke right in John’s ear. “I know there is a green haze of jealousy blinding you right now, but you got to think. Harold loves you and wouldn’t cheat. You know Hutch would never step out on me, especially not with me right down the hall.”

John nodded in understanding and stopped struggling, so Starsky continued. “Last night when Hutch was talking to Finch, something happened. Don’t have the details but Finch got really upset. Hutch was afraid to leave him alone.”

Reese stiffened then started struggling to get to the bedroom again. 

It took both of them to keep Reese from breaking down Harold’s door. Lionel used his bulk to push at John’s stomach until the taller man’s knees hit a chair in the living room. Starsky had Reese’s shoulder, so he pushed down to get John to sit. Lionel looked at both men, trying to decide if he should sit on Reese for good measure. The only reason they were able to maneuver John so far was his mindless worry for Finch and the fact that the former agent really didn’t want to hurt them.

“You gonna calm down and listen?” The Captain asked. “Cause the last thing Harold needs is some male posturing or a rescue. He’s not some damsel in distress. He had a bad memory resurface. It upset him, but Hutch was there and Finch trusted him. He wasn’t in danger or Hutch would have called you no matter what Harold wanted.”

Reese ran a hand through his hair and straightened his jacket. He took several deep breaths and nodded.

“I know you want to be there, protecting Harold, but you have to think.” Starsky motioned for Fusco to back off. “You can’t just charge in there and wake them up.” 

John swiped a hand over his mouth. “Is he, is he alright?”

“I think so.” Starsky sighed in relief at the reason reasserting itself in John’s eyes. “When I checked on them thirty minutes ago, they were sleeping. Harold looked like he’d been crying.”

Pain swept across John’s face. “Do you know what he remembered?”

“No.” The older man shook his curly head. “Just that it was bad. Hutch only told me enough to keep me from worrying or calling you. Finch was yelling and I don’t think he usually gets that loud.”

“No.” Reese spoke in a worried tone. “He’s always in control. If he was yelling…”

“Don’t try to imagine the worst.” Starsky interrupted. “Just calm down so you can go and help your man.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Reese stood and kept his eyes on the coffee table. “Sorry about… about everything I guess.”

“S’ok.” Starsky shrugged. “Did you find Nick?”

“No.” John searched his pockets and secured his gun. “I got a lead though, meeting him at some bar at eleven. I’ll nap then get up about 9:30.”

“Good.” Starsky patted Reese on the shoulder. “Now go. Send Hutch out so we can have breakfast.”

Reese made to leave but stopped. “Shouldn’t he sleep?”

“We’re early risers. You know old guys.” Starsky smiled. “Besides they went to sleep about nine. It’s almost five so that’s more sleep than usual.”

“Ok. Thanks.” Reese looked over at Fusco. “You too, Lionel.”

Fusco laughed without humor. “Don’t mention it.”

John made his way slowly to their bedroom. He took several more deep breaths to push the green eyed monster that was threatening again at the thought of Finch sleeping with Hutch before he opened the door. Finch was on his back with his mountain of pillows. Hutch was on his side facing Harold. Both of the recluse’s hands were clutching Ken’s left arm that was draped over the billionaire’s stomach. Hutch was going to have no feeling in that arm from the vise grip.

Reese took his time as he walked over to the bed studying the two men. Hutch was asleep, but not deeply. If Harold so much as shifted, Kenneth would know and wake up. Every once in a while Hutch would rub his arm against Harold, as if even in sleep the older man was comforting Finch. 

For Harold’s part, he would jerk a little, then clutch tighter on Ken’s arm. It was obvious that just the knowledge that Hutch was there soothed Finch enough to go back to a deeper rest.

Tears at the thought of someone else being there for Finch bloomed in John’s eyes. Reese chastised himself for being so selfish as to want to be everything to Harold. The genius had been alone for so long that having someone else to trust was a fine, healing thing. Harold had suffered so much pain it was good for him to have a larger support system. John shouldn’t begrudge anyone who was so willing to help. If Finch trusted Hutch this much, so should Reese.

Gently, John nudged Kenneth’s shoulder to wake the man. After a few grunts Hutch opened his eyes. When his vision cleared enough to recognize Reese, he jerked but was careful not to disturb Finch. “It’s not what you think.”

“I know.” Reese smiled slightly. “Fusco and Starsky told me. How is he?”

“Tired.” Hutch rubbed his eyes with his free hand. “Wrung out, but satisfied to finally have an old part of himself back.”

John sat on the side of the bed. “Starsky said to send you out for breakfast.”

“Yeah, food sounds good about now.” Hutch sat up. “You going to wake him?”

“No” Reese shook his head and stood to remove his coat. “Let him sleep. I need to nap before meeting a source at eleven. If Harold wants to talk to me, he can in his own time.”

“That’s smart.” Hutch rose from the bed, carefully detaching his arm from Harold’s grip. “He’ll tell you soon. It’s because he was trying to share himself with you that this happened.”

John’s eyes nearly bore a hole in the other man’s head. “What do you mean?”

Kenneth stretched and his back popped loudly. “He wanted to know why he could be with you but couldn’t undress for you. It brought the cause and its memory back.”

“Ok.” Reese sat on the bed and removed his shoes. Just as Hutch was reaching the door, the former agent stopped him. “Oh and Hutch?”

When Kenneth turned to regard Reese, the younger man continued. “Thank you for being there. Harold really needs someone to trust.”

“He is a special man.” Hutch smiled. “It’s not surprising that few people measure up enough to deserve his trust. Of course, you know that.”

John stared at the closed door for a moment then made himself comfortable on the bed. He looked over at Harold’s soft, relaxed face. Without the glasses, Finch looked younger but more exposed, vulnerable. John slipped his arm over Harold’s stomach to replace Hutch’s. He closed his eyes and breathed out. “Yeah, I know.”

*~*~*

**Author's Note:** OMG! This has been the chapter from Hades! Sorry for the delay. I just hated what I had to do to Harold. 

:( Thank you for your patience.


	15. Chapter 15

John’s alarm blared at 9:30. The former agent woke instantly when he couldn’t detect Harold anywhere. He sat up and reached for his gun.

Harold emerged from the bathroom fully dressed before Reese could leap off the bed. “I’m right here John.” 

Reese returned his weapon to the nightstand and draped his long legs over the side of the bed. “You ok?”

“Better.” Finch clasped his hands together. “I hope I didn’t worry you, and that Kenneth doesn’t require knee surgery.”

John smiled. “No, it was a near thing but Fusco and Starsky caught me at the door.” The younger man looked at his lover and beckoned with a long fingered hand. “Come here please?” 

Harold limped over to stand in front of Reese. John curled his arms around the wide hips and rested his head on the little pot belly. He just calmly inhaled the scent of his man and tried to curb the urge to get all the details of last night out of his lover.

Harold carded his fingers through the messy salt and pepper locks and sighed. “I was researching possible reasons for my aversion to undressing in front of you when Kenneth came in. I sought his advice. In the course of explaining my feelings and the situation, I had a repressed childhood memory resurface. It upset me.” Harold paused and ran his fingers over John’s stubbled cheek. “Kenneth, as you know, has a degree in psychology. He helped me to accept what had happened and not let it define my behavior anymore. I think with his assistance, I am now ready to share with you fully.” 

“I’m glad.” Reese raised his head to allow Finch to cup his cheek. “Can you tell me what you remembered?”

“As Kenneth explains it,” Finch rested his hands on the wide sturdy shoulders, “My mother probably had post partum depression, which led to the paranoid delusion that I was the cause of her inability to carry a female child to term. She would berate me for being… a disgusting, naughty, bad boy. Her rants about my sinful and perverted penis made it difficult for me when I discovered I was homosexual. It seems I was afraid anyone who saw me naked would punish me for being disgusting.”

Reese nuzzled his nose between two vest buttons. “I’m sure you know that I would never turn you away or punish you, even if you had a squid tentacle.”

Harold laughed softly. “Yes, but the fear was more powerful because I had suppressed the memory of her psychosis.”

Reese sniffed deeply and looked up again. “Any theories about why your logical mind would willingly forget something like that?”

“Yes: to preserve her memory.” Harold sat down beside John. “She killed herself when I was eight.” 

Reese gathered his beloved friend close to his chest as Finch continued. “For me it was akin to dealing with a corrupted file. In order to safeguard the program of my mind, I isolated the damaged data and deactivated it from my system.” 

John tucked the spiky head under his chin and began to explore his lover’s back and thigh. “Well, we wouldn’t want any corruption now would we?”

Finch leaned back. “I’m not trying to dodge you honestly, but don’t you need to dress and eat so you can meet your source?”

“Yes, damn it.” John sighed and stood. “Ok. I’m going but we will test out this new theory at a later time. You know that right?”

“Looking forward to it, Mr. Reese.” Harold said with a sweet blush and a lopsided smile.

*~*~*

Reese entered the bar with his usual confident swagger. The barkeep was a grizzled old retired navy grunt, and there was only one waitress who had been around the block more than once. The regulars all could have been cast in a Popeye movie. Three men in their late 40’s sat at the bar. Two lonely sailors were trying to negotiate the call girl’s price at a table to the right. In the very back, in front of the office door, sat John’s nervous source. The man was in his sixties, but time and bad living had left their mark. He was alone it seemed, but Reese took no chances. 

Double checking the exit to the alley and a lack of cameras anywhere but directly over the cash register, John swaggered over to sit next to the snitch. 

Reese usually liked to sit across from anyone he wasn’t absolutely sure of, but that would put John’s back to the room and the bar’s entrance. No go. “What have you got for me?”

Three burly men came through the office door at that moment. John’s source took the opportunity to scurry away like the rat he was. Reese laid both hands on the table, palms flat. “Well, hello fellows. Are you the guys I need to talk to?”

The shortest guy was in the middle and looked to be the leader. “Heard you were looking for a dead man.”

John noticed all three were packing. The leader kept his in his belt, to the left was Dweedle-Dee, gun held like a rapper. Dweedle-Dum had his firearm close to his chest. “Now we all know Nick Starsky isn’t dead…yet.”

Leader jerked his head. “Why you looking?”

John leaned back. “Heard his pig of a brother was in hiding and baby brother might want to know where.”

Leader smiled and stepped closer trying to intimidate. “Really, where’d you hear that?”

“Here and there.” Reese said airily. “Might have been the same place that I learned exactly where Captain Starsky is holed up.”

That got the leader interested, causing the man to stand right in front of Reese. “Where?”

“Oh no.” John turned his chair so that he and leader were facing each other squarely. “I need to deliver this message to baby brother himself. Make sure I get in good with his boss. You know? A debt owed and all.”

The leader sneered and pointed his gun in Reese’s face. When will bad guys learn to keep their firearm close to their body until ready to shoot? Still seated, John raised both hands in the universal ‘I surrender’ gesture. He then quickly clapped his hands together, whipped them up to grab the barrel, pulled down to hurt leader’s wrist, kicked out the knee of the dumbass, then yanked the gun to the side to be released from the idiot’s hand. 

Dweedle-Dum got a bullet in the knee while Dweedle-Dee dropped his weapon and raised his hands. Reese finally stood, scooped up Dweedle-Dee’s gun and stepped over the two writhing idiots and smoothly entered the office to find just what he expected: Nick Starsky.

John roughly gathered the surprised man up and swiftly escaped out the alley. Nick protested loudly but quieted after he realized Reese had a gun trained on him. One stolen car and a pair of handcuffs on Nick later and they were rolling before the sirens were even heard.

John tapped his earpiece. “Harold? Need a safe house nearby that can double as a cell. I’ve got Nick and need to keep him on ice till the heat cools down.”

“Reading Mickey Spillane again, Mr. Reese?” Finch murmured as keys could be heard clacking away. “Turn right at Washington BLVD. I have a warehouse off of 2nd street.” 

“Even in Jersey, Finch?”

“Exactly!” Finch sounded quite pleased with himself. “Who would want to reside in New Jersey?”

John chuckled and found the warehouse. Finch gave him the code to enter; it was a regular looking warehouse, but to the left there was a bookcase. Harold told John which book to pull, then the code to release the hidden elevator. They rose up to the third floor to find a modest apartment. Reese was going to admonish Finch when he noticed a huge cage in the back. It was a perfect cell. Plastic molded bed with all rounded corners and two drawers underneath which could not be removed. A toilet and sink in the corner that looked to have come right out of Sing-Sing using an old fashioned key lock modified with a number pad; Ingenious.

“Finch? Do I want to know why you have a prison cell in this apartment?”

“Ah…” There was a pause then Harold cleared his throat. “No you do not.”

God, Reese loved that man! The former agent deposited his charge inside and locked him up. John stepped into the bedroom and closed the door to confer with Finch about interrogation techniques. “I don’t want to torture him but I will. Any suggestions?”

“One moment Mr. Reese.” Finch’s uneven tread could be heard retreating then returning. When Harold arrived, he put the call on speakers. “Mr. Reese? Kenneth is here with me. Kenneth, can you think of a way to get Nick to talk without the use of violence?”

“Just beat the shit out of him.” Hutch’s gentle voice was now hard.

“Kenneth.” Finch admonished.

“Sorry.” Seemed even hard boiled police detectives responded to a disapproving Finch. “Um… When they were kids, Nicky had a pit bull bite him and not let go. It took Starsk twenty minutes to finally get the dog off his little brother and give Nick’s hand back. Ever since then neither Nick nor Starsky can stand dogs; terrified the both of them.”

“Really?” Reese smirked and asked Finch a favor.

*~*~*

Harold collared Bear after allowing the excited dog to sniff and lick to his heart’s content. The billionaire paid the account and thanked the staff once again. Fusco kept his eye on the dog. 

Lionel knew the canine was well trained and friendly but he only took orders from Reese and Finch. The former agent had become the dog’s best friend. Bear knew that John wanted him to protect Harold at all costs. That meant that if Fusco or even Carter got too close to the billionaire without a stand down command from Finch or Reese, someone would be screaming and bleeding. 

Fusco got in the driver’s seat, knowing from experience that Bear liked to snuggle in the back with Finch after a kennel episode. The dog was very much like Reese in that aspect. Any time apart from Harold and both of them wanted to sniff and inspect the smaller man for any injuries or infirmities. Oddly, the recluse allowed this behavior from Bear. The recent change in the status of relations with Reese would reveal if Mr. Glasses would let his new boyfriend do the same.

*~*~*

Fusco and Finch entered the warehouse to be greeted by Reese. Bear looked at Finch for permission to greet his friend. Harold smiled down at the canine and said, “Voor uit (go ahead).” Bear enthusiastically went to John. 

The former agent kneeled down to pet the dog. “Thanks Lionel. Could you take Finch back to the safe house?” 

Harold looked at his employee with disapproval. “Mr. Reese, Det. Fusco can go back alone to get some rest. You can drive me and Bear to the safe house to get some sleep yourself.”

John looked at Finch with as much honesty as he could muster. “I don’t want Nick near Starsky. Not until we know for sure Nick is safe around his brother.”

Finch sighed. “Your interrogation will either be successful or not. Either way, you need sleep. Mr. Starsky can just spend the night locked up for his own safety.”

Reese began to rub Bear’s coat vigorously. “What if he gets out?”

“He won’t.” Harold was losing patience and pleaded. “John, please.”

Reese exhaled loudly. “Alright.”

“Thank you.” Finch turned to Fusco. “And thank you Lionel.”

Lionel shrugged. “Sure.”

When the detective left and the sound of the car driving away could be heard, Finch turned to Reese. “You know Mr. Reese, I don’t need a babysitter.”

John kept his head down under the pretext of petting Bear. “I know. We can’t take a chance that someone saw you having lunch with Hutch. They might try to use you to flush Hutch and Starsky out.”

“Alright.” 

The disbelief in that one word from Finch echoed throughout the warehouse prompting Reese to sigh and look up. “Harold. I’m trying.”

“I know.” Finch softly smiled. “I’m sorry this is so hard for you.”

John stood and grasped the leash. “Stay down here. I don’t want you to see this, ok?”

Harold pinched his lips together. “I don’t like giving you all the dirty work. Any actions you take are under my direction. I am just as responsible.”

“I know that.” Reese closed the distance between them. “But please. I want you to be able to sleep tonight too.”

Finch quickly kissed his lover. “I love you.” 

Bear woofed and panted happily with his tongue hanging out as if he approved of the new closeness between his pack members. Reese laughed and pecked Harold on the lips. “Love you back.”

Dog and man took the elevator to the third floor.

*~*~*


	16. Chapter 16

Nick was slumped at the head of the bed with one leg up on the mattress when Reese came in. The youngest Starsky brother sat up and opened his mouth about to demand Reese let him out when he noticed the dog. His face paled and his mouth gaped open.

John smirked to himself and found a dining chair. He dropped Bear’s lead and said, “Blijf(stay).”

He dragged the chair slowly in front of the cell door. The former agent sat and unpacked a giant beef knuckle from a brown paper bag. He placed the bone in front of Bear. The canine looked ecstatic and began munching the treat loudly.

“Always likes a good bone. Now, Nicky where have you been for thirty years?”

The prisoner stared openly at Bear with horror. He looked up at Reese. “What are you going to do with that dog?”

John shrugged. “He’s been in a kennel while we’ve been protecting your brother. He’s a might antsy. All that aggression needs an outlet. The treat might help… maybe.”

The sound of bone and marrow being crushed by powerful jaws echoed around the room.

*~*~*

Hutch sat beside Starsky on their bed. The brunet had his head in his hands. Ken didn’t know how to help. What do you say to someone whose brother faked his own death and might be out to kill him?

Hutch never liked Nick. The little shit was a brat trying to run with mobsters and hoodlums. The pain and hurt Nick caused Starsky and Rachel even before the visit in ’79 would never allow Hutch to forgive the jerk.

Kenneth placed his arm around his friend. “What can I do babe? What do you need right now? Need me to leave you alone?”

“No. I need…I need you to hold me. Let me know that most of my world is still intact.”

“Of course.” Ken drew closer.“Always willing to hold you.”

They tumbled down to the mattress with Hutch cradling his precious burden. Pain and uncertainty radiated from his lover. Ken carded his long fingers through the enviably thick curls. He kissed the troubled brow and sighed.

“I love you. I am so sorry this has happened. If I could take this pain from you into myself I would.”

Starsky rubbed his stubble along Ken’s neck. “I know you would. I just don’t know what to feel; glad that he’s alive, angry that he did this, horrified that he might be trying to kill me?” Starsky cuddled closer fitting his head under Hutch’s chin. “Am I a bad person for… for being relieved when they told us he was dead?”

Hutch sighed. “No. You can’t control how you feel and the relief was justified. When Rachel passed, you were sad that she had to go, but relieved that she wouldn’t suffer anymore.”

Ken began to rock them slowly. “The same was true for Nick. When he passed, you knew he wouldn’t have to look over his shoulder anymore. He wouldn’t need to constantly scheme and lie. He was finally at peace.”

Hutch paused and looked at the ceiling, remembering late night calls from Rachel that left Starsky seething with anger and hurt by what Nick was putting their mother through. “Maybe in the afterlife he could rest and find whatever he was missing in this life. You loved him and didn’t want him to suffer in prison or any other place where his life style and poor choices delivered him.”

Starsky spoke in a small childlike voice that broke Hutch’s heart every time he heard it. “So I wasn’t being selfish? Being almost glad that it was over?”

“No.” Hutch shook his lover to make sure Starsky knew that nothing he had felt was wrong. “You are a good man, David Michael Starsky. Your brother wasn’t.

Ken inhaled the scent of his mate to try to conjure up the magic words to soothe his best friend. “His life was wasted by his own hand. Everything he did was tainted by evil, selfishness and greed. You and Rachel were always waiting for the next phone call or next disaster Nick got into.”

“I love you so much, Blintz.” The brunet sighed. “If Nick knew about us, he’d…”

“He never liked me much Starsk.” Ken interrupted. “If he had learned about us, he would have blamed me. I probably seduced you. You only had me in California to help after the shooting, so you went along with this because you had to.”

Starsky cringed. “Jeez, Hutch you make it sound like I’m only with you because you didn’t give me any other choice, like you coerced me or something.”

Hutch shrugged. “That’s how Nick would see it.”

“Well, I don’t.” Starsky sat up to look Hutch in the eyes with a furrowed brow. “You don’t think that do you?”

Kenneth could never lie to this man. “At first, the thought had crossed my mind, but I was so in love with you I figured I could enjoy this until you realized you didn’t have to, to repay me that way.”

The blond blushed and averted his eyes. “I reasoned with myself that you’d come to your senses and tell me this kind of relationship wasn’t for you. That you loved me but not like that, and you were just so grateful for my help…”

“Hutch!” Starsky was horrified by these implications. “For god’s sake! I was a grown man. Why would you… How long did you live like that, waiting for the hammer to fall, never knowing which kiss would be the last one I’d ever give you?”

“It wasn’t so bad.” Hutch tried to look away but Starsky grabbed his chin until Hutch continued in a whisper. “I had you. If I only got you for a few months, it was more than I’d ever dreamed I would be allowed.”

The soft admission and the tears welling in Hutch’s eyes struck Starsky in the heart. “How long Hutch?”

“It wasn’t until you told Rachel that I felt secure about us.” Ken closed his eyes, letting the tears fall. “At least about you wanting to be with me.”

“Three years?” David couldn’t comprehend living in fear like that for even a week, much less three years. “Fuck Hutch. We bought a house together.”

“We’d bought a house before.” Hutch’s voice was hesitant and embarrassed.

“Yeah but jeez, this was different: three years of wondering if a pretty girl would remind me that I was straight, three years of walking on eggshells around me. Come here you big idiot.”

It was Hutch’s turn to be held tight to his lover’s chest. “It wasn’t so bad. I got to hold you and kiss you. I got to see that you were alright every morning.”

Starsky shook his head in exasperation. “I hope you know that I ain’t never gonna leave you. This,” Starsky placed his hand over Ken’s heart, “is where I belong. I know I’m slow but when I get it, I get it.”

Kenneth was pinned by the sincerity of Starsky gaze. “You’ve certainly got me partner.”

“I do, don’t I?” A slow sexy smile bloomed on Starsky’s handsome face.“So, what am I gonna do with my pretty little thing?”

An answering,coy smirk spread on Hutch’s face. “Well, you can do anything you like, can’t you?”

*~*~*

“Listen. I don’t know what you’ve been told fella, but I don’t know nothing.” Nick Starsky licked his lips as his eyes darted from Bear to Reese, then back again.

“Oh, I’ve been told a lot about you Nick, by a very reliable source.” Reese scratched Bear between the ears as the happy canine munched and gnawed the broken remains of the cow knuckle, and observed his nervous prisoner. “Now my boss, who hired me to protect your brother, is downstairs. He needs to go home and have supper, a nice hot bath and a good rest. So, **_you_** need to hurry up and tell me what **_I_** need so I can drive my boss home.”

John stared at the cowering and calculating man as he barked to Bear. “Staan (stand).”

Bear stood instantly with his ears up and ready for John’s next command. Nick jerked and scrambled farther away from the door.

“What’s the matter Nick? Cat got your tongue?” Reese let some teeth show in a feral grin.

Reese muttered the command, “Blaffen (speak)”to Bear. The loving dog instantly barked loudly, sending Nick straight off the bed and over into the corner.

John stood and pointed at the cage. “Revieren (search).” Bear made frantic circles around the cell trying to get inside to find what his alpha needed.

It looked to Nick like Bear was trying to get in to attack the craven idiot. “Hey man! Call him off.”

“Blaffen, revieren!” John encouraged. Bark and search were now Bear’s primary directives. John egged the hound on with a smile on his face as the younger Starsky got more and more frazzled.

“Listen, man. Listen!” Nick was trembling. “I’m just a gopher. I do what he says.”

“Who?” Reese demanded. “What who says?”

Nick hesitated and Reese was tired of the game. Harold was out in the open, an entire floor away with no one to guard him while John and Bear were up here. This waste of space was not going to cost John one more second away from Harold. So John gave the attack command to Bear while pointing at the younger Starsky.

Bear instantly started growling and snarling at Nick.

“Alright! ALRIGHT! Call him off!” The prisoner screamed in terror. “I work for Jose Amparo. He planned the heist in Jersey and the prison break. He needed to get out of the country. So he hid us in São Tomé since they speak Portuguese there.  
Reese gave the stand down command to Bear and rubbed the dog affectionately. “Why are you back in the States?”

“We had a score,” the rabbit of a man mumbled. “The bank heist was just a cover. I broke into the safety deposit boxes, took the keys from the bank manager, had a dummy key to open the rest. I rummaged through some boxes to make it look good. We were really just there to get at a certain box. I took what was in that box and moved it to one that belonged to a girl Amparo used as a mule. We were going to get to it later after the heat died down.”

Reese petted Bear and commanded him to sit. “But one of your friends got in trouble for a murder and plea bargained before you could get to the box.”

“Yeah man.”Nick nodded.

The former agent grunted. “Why didn’t your boss just get the stash and leave you to rot?

“Cause I was hiding out.” Starsky shrugged. “Amparo didn’t want to be seen with me until this blew over. When I got picked up, the key was in my stuff at Ma’s. Then Amparo had some cops on his trail and couldn’t let me near my stuff. We left the country less than two hours after the prison break.”

“But why come back now?” Reese asked.

“The heat on Amparo has cooled. Like permanently.” He was gaining some confidence back now that Bear wasn’t actively trying to tear Nick apart. “But listen man, I had no idea Amparo was going to put a hit out on Davey. Honest! I damn near cried when I heard what happened to Ma. That crazy backwards country didn’t even have American newspapers.”

“So Amparo thinks he can get to your stuff by killing Starsky and letting you pick up the key?”

“Yeah.” Nick grimaced. “I thought he was going to let me get it from Davey or I wouldn’t have gone along with it. I love Davey. With Ma gone, he’s all the family I’ve got left.”

John locked his gaze on the other man. “What’s in the box Nicky?”

“Man, Amparo’s gonna kill me!”

Reese was not sympathetic. “He was planning to kill you anyway.”

Starsky sat on the bed. “No way man. He needs me.”

“Not after you get him that key.” The former agent shook his head slowly. “Once that has been found, your services are no longer required. Besides, you’re already dead.” Reese went over to the kitchen and pulled a bag out of the refrigerator.

John carried the happy meal and a plastic cup over to the cell. “Here. Where is that key Nick?”

Nick grimaced at the cold burger and fries.“I put it in the copy of the Torah Ma gave me when I was 13 for my Bar Mitzvah.”

“Eat up and prepare to meet your brother in the morning.” Reese gathered Bear’s leash and made his way down to meet Finch with the news.

*~*~*

Starsky smiled slowly and sweetly down at Hutch. “Want you inside me lover. Need to feel connected to something again.”

Hutch smiled back and pulled Starsky down into a passionate kiss. When he pulled away, he whispered into Starsky’s lips. “You’re connected to me Babe. All the way down to my toes. Not one cell of my body has been left without your fingerprints.”

Hutch rolled them over and gazed down into the face of his love. Starsky had been his everything for so long, Ken actually had trouble remembering a time without this scamp with him. “Like this Babe? Or on your stomach?”

Starsky smiled shyly. “On my stomach, that way you can hold me tight. I need you close Blintz.”

With a last face to face kiss, Hutch turned his lover over and reached for the lube. He pushed the bottle under Starsky to try to warm the liquid. Hutch’s hands skimmed the tanned smooth skin of Starsky’s sides under his t-shirt.  
The blond draped his body along his lover’s and nipped David’s neck. Sweet kisses that lingered into soft bites peppered Starsky’s shoulders down his back until right above his tail bone.

Back to mouthing his lover’s neck, Hutch used his right hand to glide under the trim waist to fondle Starsky’s burgeoning erection. Ken thrust his own denim clad bulge down so his lover could feel his excitement.

David moaned and arched his ass up. Ken stifled an evil chuckle by biting down on a convenient shoulder. Skilled hands accustomed to the body below him had Starsky’s pants undone and shimmied off in seconds. Hutch tried not to laugh at the Superman briefs as he slowly lowered them down the hairy legs.

Presented with the full, firm ass of his lover, Ken growled and massaged the twin globes. The arousal that had been simmering was now at full boil. He quickly opened and pushed his jeans down his own thighs. Hutch removed the lube from under Starsky and coated two fingers. With lust and love guiding his hand, Hutch circled the tight ring of muscle that would welcome him soon.  
When Starsky started to push back, Ken inserted both fingers to the first knuckle. Hutch nibbled between sharp shoulder blades and licked at the neck again. Starsky’s shirt would just have to stay on; Hutch couldn’t wait.

Kenneth scissored his fingers to loosen the opening, then thrust deeper. Starsky grunted and pushed back again. “Ready for you Hutch. Want it.”

Figuring Starsky knew his own body and was not willing to wait, Hutch positioned his weeping cock at the guardian ring. With his own grunt, Ken pushed about half his length inside his mate. Both men stilled to enjoy the sensation.

Hutch pulled back a few inches and planted his palms on either side of Starsky’s head. He thrust all the way this time.

Starsky keened in joy while Hutch tried to stifle his own yell. Being inside Starsky was heaven, nirvana and paradise all rolled into one mind blowing awareness of pleasure.

When he felt he could control himself and the pace, Ken drew back and angled his hips for maximum Starsky pleasure. The full body clench of his lover let Hutch know he found the prostate.

Kenneth lowered his body to cover his mate’s. Both arms wrapped themselves under Starsky’s armpits to grip David’s shoulders from underneath. Hutch had Starsky blanketed from neck to feet.

Using his grip on Starsky for leverage, Hutch tucked his chin where the right shoulder met Starsky’s neck and began a slow, shallow, even rhythm.

As each pass of his swollen hardness bottomed out, Hutch would grunt or growl endearments into his lover’s ear. The coupling was unhurried. No desperate fumblings or mad sprints to the finish line. This was a joining.

Two bodies in tune worked in tandem to create music heard only in their hearts: Hutch’s careful, yet replete sovereignty over Starsky; Starsky’s desperate yet controlled yearning.

Light and dark completed an endless symphony of moans, groans, thrusts and contractions. A partnership that had been perfected on the job now translated into a perfect harmony in such an intimate setting.

No one‘s needs or wants were ignored; each gave all they had, each took what they craved.

Soon the urge for completion and satisfaction became too much. Ken’s thrusts became harder and deeper. Starsky’s undulation became desperate and demanding.

As climax approached, a litany of curses and affection spilled from both men, interspersed with each other’s name.

Ken cradled his lover’s drooling manhood in a tight fist. Each deep thrust was accompanied by a swift pull.

Starsky tumbled over the cliff first, a cry of “Hutch!” preceding convulsions and a tightening of the flesh around Hutch’s hard column.

Kenneth plunged through the spasming tunnel, pumping Starsky, quick and firm.

As the last quivers dissipated, Hutch launched himself deep into his lover’s body. Abandoning all finesse and reason, Ken howled and emptied all his love and essence inside his mate.

Heaving chests and sweating bodies were slumped in the aftermath. Hutch’s forehead touched the side of Starsky’s face as they shared moist and heated breaths.

A quiet, “Love you, Starsk”, hung in the air.

*~*~*

A knock on their bedroom door roused Hutch and Starsky from their near slumber.

Kenneth groaned and stretched. “Yeah?”

“Dinner’s ready.” John Reese’s voice held barely controlled amusement. ”Guess it’s my turn to interrupt.”

Starsky sat up and called out, “Ha, ha. Give us a minute.”

Footsteps and chuckles could be heard retreating.

Chuffing a silent laugh, Ken asked. “You feeling better babe?”

“Better yeah, great: No. It’s a bad situation all around Hutch. Ain’t nothing I can do about it but see this through.”

Hutch kissed Starsky‘s frown. “You know I’ll be right there beside you partner.”

The brunet smiled softly. “Course. That’s how I know I can make it.”

Both men smiled wide and began dressing for supper.

*~*~*

Everyone was gathered around the table when Starsky and Hutch showed up. It seemed that Harold and Lionel had gone all out for the meal.

“We’re having our own version of ‘The Tour of Italy’.” Fusco informed them. “Which is way better than Olive Garden’s; Chicken Saltimbocca, with Milan style asparagus and Venetian Potatoes.”

Finch bobbed his head. “The wine is a fruity Pinot Grigio with apple-honey aromas, lemon & ripe pear flavors.”

Harold nervously sat beside Reese. “It should pair well with the chicken.”

Hutch sat on Harold‘s other side and nudged the recluse. “You know, beer would satisfy these philistines.

“Yes, well.” Finch gave Kenneth a tiny smirk. “We must try and civilize these heathens. It is our Christian duty.”

“Uh, guys?” The Captain was eyeing Bear with alarm. “What’s this dog doing here?”

“Oh, forgive me.” Harold commanded Bear to his side for introductions. “This is Bear. He was a military trained dog, very friendly.”

Fusco snorted around a buttered roll. “Yeah, just don’t go hugging on Finch without first getting Reese or Harold to give permission. Cause, _somebody_ trained him to eat anyone who comes near ol’ four eyes there.”

Reese scowled at Lionel when Harold looked up and pleaded with his eyes.

“John, I don’t want our guests to be afraid of Bear.”

Reese reluctantly gave the stand down command since nobody could refuse the puppy dog eyes of both Bear _and_ Finch.

“What was that?” asked Harold with a contemplated stare. Whatever Reese had said was a new command to Finch

“Special one.” John mumbled.

Fusco crowed. “Told you he trained the dog to keep out the competition for snuggling with Finch.”

A bump under the table preceeded Lionel’s exclamation of ‘ouch’, which was ignored by the other occupants, except Carter.

Looking at Fusco as if her partner were losing his mind, Carter smiled at Starsky. “Bear is a sweet dog and playful. Feel free to pet him. John or Finch can command him using Dutch. So, fear not.”

“Yeah, I’ll get right on that.” Still distrustful of Bear, Starsky tried to change the subject. “So, how’s Nick? He give you what you need?”

Reese swallowed and took a sip of wine. “So far, he said the real reason for the bank heist was to get at a safety deposit box and switch the contents. Nick hid the key in his copy of the Torah stashed at your mother‘s. That’s why his boss unbeknownst to your dear baby brother, put out the hit.”

“He put the key inside his bar mitzvah Torah?” Starsky asked through clenched teeth with boiling anger barely kept in check.

Reese looked at Hutch then back to Starsky. “Yes.”

Starsky abruptly stood, nearly knocking his chair over. “How could he do that?”

The Captain paced to the end of the dining room and faced a wall. His left hand supported his weight as the curly head bowed low as if in pain.

“What?” Carter asked with wide eyes.

It was Ken who explained softly. “The bar mitzvah is a celebration of manhood but also a declaration that the child is now accountable for his actions.”

David turned to the crowd. “Which Nick never was. God!”

John grimaced. “We’ll head over to the storage unit tomorrow. I couldn’t get him to tell me what exactly would be in it that was worth all this trouble. Especially 30 years later.”

Finch turned worried eyes to Hutch but just said, “The only things that have retained or surpass their value would be gold or jewels.”

Ken acknowledged the comfort from Harold silently. Hutch shook his head. “All this over some pretty baubles.”

Finch lightly touched Ken‘s arm. “Not exactly the stuff dreams are made of.”

Suddenly, Starsky was sitting back at the table. “I tell you schweetheart, times is tough. And a man needs to be tougher.”

Silence awkwardly descended around the table until Harold spoke up. “That is without a doubt the worst Bogart impression I have ever heard.”

Everyone laughed and the tension eased. Hutch slapped his partner’s arm. “Congratulations.”

David hunched over his plate with a blush. “Aw Hutch, you’re mean.”

*~*~*

Reese finished his rounds and made sure Fusco was alert and ready. Finally able to relax, John slipped into their bedroom. Once again, Harold was already in bed. The pajamas were blue silk with grey pinstripes this time. “Just keep getting cuter Finch.”

Harold pinked up nicely while John removed his slacks and shirt. Reese slipped into bed and cuddled close. Soft kisses were disturbed by a dipping of the bed. John pulled reluctantly away from those enticing lips to meet a muzzle and a lolling tongue. “Bear!Off the bed.”

When nothing happened, John carefully pushed the canine off. The former agent didn’t even get a chance to turn around fully before the large dog was once again on the mattress. This time, Bear whimpered and tried to lie between the two men.

Harold laughed. “I think Bear wants to join our puppy pile.”

Reese glared at the intruder. “He’s never gotten on the bed before.”

“Well, he’s never seen his pack mates together on the bed before. Usually, Bear had his bed, you had yours or I had mine. He probably assumes this is where all pack members will be sleeping tonight.”

John grunted and rolled out of bed. “Well, he assumes wrong.” Reese opened the bedroom door pointing out to the hall. “Go keep Lionel company.”

Bear slunk off the bed giving a whine to Finch. When he got to the doorway, the canine slouched low on the floor, as if making himself smaller would render him invisible.

“Out.” Reese commanded, sliding the dog over the threshold with his foot. John closed the door with a huff. When the exasperated man turned to the bed, he noticed Harold laughing into his hand. “Oh you think it’s funny do ya?”

Reese carefully pounced on Harold, making the mattress bounce. Harold lost it then, laughing loud and with abandon as Reese purposely shook the bed up and down, yet never allowed his weight to settle on Finch. John looked down into the red, grinning face and thanked Heaven, Hell or wherever that he was here, in this man’s bed.

The laughter subsided leaving a heat between both men. Harold squirmed under the frank scrutiny. Reese bent to take the soft, expressive mouth in a passionate kiss. John lowered himself slowly on top of Finch.

When their hips joined, Harold cried out at the jolt of sensation. The feel of John’s erection sliding alongside Finch’s own hard arousal was exquisite. Soft undulations kept sparking the fire between them. Soon, Reese was mouthing Harold’s neck while unbuttoning the silk shirt.

Realizing what John was doing, Harold froze. Reese raised his head to look deep into his lover’s eyes. “Please, I won’t hurt you. I could never hurt you.”

Finch inhaled a cleansing breath and nodded.

Slowly and with reverence Reese opened Harold’s shirt. The chest he unearthed wasn’t wide but neither was it flabby. Obviously Harold worked hard to keep in shape despite his injuries. John ran his left hand over the mat of curly grey and brown hair. His fingers combed through the waves of his lover’s fleece. God it was such a turn on being with a man covered in a masculine pelt.

Reese lowered his head to rub his face in all that fur. His nose encountered a crinkled and erect nipple. Carefully, John tongued the nub while looking up to make sure Harold was ok with this touch. The billionaire had his head drawn back as far as it could comfortably go. Both hands made fists in the sheets. When Reese sucked and explored the nipple with his lips, Harold’s chest heaved. John went to the other side to nibble at the nub there.

Harold moaned softly. “I had… no idea… that would feel so good.”

Reese raised his head, letting the nipple leave his mouth with a pop. “I like mine handled roughly. I think we’ll experiment with that on you later.”

John returned his mouth to Finch’s sternum. He ran his nose over the center. Slowly, Reese followed the path of hair to Harold’s belly button, leaving a wet trail as he licked and sucked each millimeter. Confronted with that puckered navel, John inserted his tongue languidly into the divot. He imagined Finch letting him do this to another part of the reclusive genius.

Reese moaned at the idea and thrust the agile muscle into the hole. He vigorously rimmed each fold. Finch gasped and shuddered. Reese hoped his lover was having the same fantasy. Reese desperately wanted to pierce every opening Harold had. His tongue, finger or cock, it didn’t matter. The longing to become joined with Finch made John’s arousal throb anew. _Soon_ , he promised his erection and gave it a placating squeeze. _Harold comes first and should come first_ , Reese thought with a smirk.

Cautiously, John raised both hands to Harold’s waistband while kissing along his stomach. Finch tensed up then sighed. “Go on John. I trust you.”

The faith given to the battered warrior pierced his heart, making his throat tight. With painstaking care, the younger man lowered the band exposing Harold’s erection. The cool air on heated skin made Finch gasp and wiggle his hips. John guided his hands under the band to Finch’s sides. He lowered the pajama pants in increments, preparing to stop at the first sign Finch was uncomfortable.

With no negatives forth coming, John eased his fingers to Harold’s lower back. The former agent easily raised Finch’s hips to pull down the pants to Harold’s knees. John looked up at his lover. No indications of panic were evident. Just a deep blush and sweat making Harold glow.

John eagerly explored this new territory. He smoothed both palms up and down the rose flushed thighs of his lover. The hair roughened skin was pale and warm. Reese decided to wait on removing the pajamas completely. Harold’s injured calf and back might be something the older man needed to expose slowly.

Finally, John allowed himself to really look at the evidence that Harold was aroused. The hard shaft wasn’t as thick as John’s own, but longer. Reese felt he could easily accommodate Harold’s swollen flesh inside himself with thorough stretching. The idea of having that long staff split John open made his own hole clench, _God that would feel good_.

The head was a dark red already beaded with pre-seminal fluid. The urge to taste rushed through the younger man. _Patience_ , he told himself.

Harold’s rigid manhood was slightly curved up. That feature allowed John to imagine the hot length stroking his own prostate over and over again with Reese flat on his back. A shiver swelled up from John’s thighs across his back to raise the hairs at his nape.

The heavy scrotum was sprinkled with curly hair and drawn slightly up with arousal. The full sack was satisfyingly wrinkled and watered his mouth. John was experiencing such awe that it urged him to whisper. “Harold, you’re so beautiful. There is nothing wrong with you. Every inch so far has been a delight. I can’t wait to taste all of you.”

Finch took a sharp breath and opened his eyes. “Really, you don’t think I have fat hips? And my, my penis is angled awkwardly right now. It’s almost bent.”

“You want to know what I was thinking when I saw this curve?” At Finch’s shy nod, Reese let the heat show in his eyes. “I was imagining myself flat on my back with that curved tip aggressively and unerringly hitting my prostate.”

Harold’s straining sex jerked in front of Reese who smiled. “It’s not bent, baby. Once you’re inside me, it will actually feel better than a straight cock. You have an advantage over me there and you can get deeper.”

The discussion wasn’t clinical but did serve a psychological purpose. John wasn’t making a big deal about Harold’s nudity. The fact that Finch allowed himself to be viewed in ‘all his glory’ was monumental for them but shouldn’t be treated like an international event. Sharing one’s body with another, with a lover should feel like a true sharing; a joining.  
There was a great truth to the phrase ‘better half’. When a couple makes love they simply become the halves to the whole of that love. It might be a sappy thought but Reese was comfortable enough to admit that Finch made him sentimental.

The taller man gathered his courage and asked. “Can I touch you? I want to feel you in my throat and taste your orgasm.”

Harold’s eyes blazed at the description. With a shortness of breath from arousal, he said. “Please. I, I want you so much.”

With shaking hands, John let his left fingers caress those vulnerable testes. His right hand circled the aching hardness. Wary of Finch balking, Reese lowered his head and inhaled the musky fragrance of male and arousal that was flavored with Finch’s own unique scent. His left hand moved smoothly up to ruffle the magnificent thatch of pubic hair, eliciting more of that enticing aroma. Unable to hold back any longer, John kept one ear open for Harold’s reactions and supported his weight with his left hand on the mattress, he let his lips encompass the shiny head. A burst of bittersweet essence exploded inside his mouth. His tongue impatiently struck out like a cobra to slurp up any stray liquid.

Above Reese, Finch caught his breath and gasped out. “Oh…Oh…” Harold’s legs shifted and his hips jerked minutely as if wanting more of John’s mouth.

Always willing to give Finch what he needs, Reese engulfed half of the aching phallus into himself, his tongue and lips incessantly working the shaft as he descended. Finch bucked beneath him. John pulled up with his tongue flat against the meandering and prominent vein. He skimmed the now pointed muscle under Harold’s ridge and circled around to then suck hard. Finch whimpered and jerked violently.

Reese rested his left hand on Harold’s hips to steady himself and control Finch’s movements. John could easily deep throat the thick hardness, but Finch thrusting so much might hurt Harold’s injuries.

Inhaling deeply, Reese plunged down to let the head pummel the back of his throat. It had been a while since he’d done this. He needed to relax his throat and swallow around Harold. He pulled up with all the pressure he could generate in his lips.

Reese pulled off completely after circling the head. He grabbed as much air as he could in the few seconds his mouth would allow him away from that intoxicating flavor and feeling.

John let the turgid flesh sink deep to his core. This time his esophagus welcomed the spongy fullness. Reese’s nose was pressed against Harold’s pubic bone allowing the younger man to inhale all that musk. John’s hands were firmly keeping Finch from thrusting but couldn’t control the shudder that racked the beloved body.

“Oh God…John.” The billionaire panted out in a high whine.

Reese closed his eyes and swallowed around the girth filling him so completely. Finch mewed prettily, letting John know it was good. Reese pulled up sucking madly.

Finch grabbed John’s head to stroke his fingers through the strands and gasped out. “I, I think… I’m about to… to climax.”

Reese pulled off completely and let his right hand continue to stroke as he said, “Good. I want you to flood my mouth and let me taste you. Don’t hold back but don’t hurt yourself. Give it to me Harold.”

This time John let his lips meet his right fist as he bobbed his head. He couldn’t keep still; his hand would twist and pull in counterpoint to his tongue and lips manipulating the straining rod as he dipped his mouth over and over again. He desperately needed to drag the orgasm out of Harold, to savor the juice on his taste buds and drink down the very essence of the man he loved.

Finch grabbed the headboard, moaning steadily to the rhythm John set. He couldn’t thrust with the iron grip on his hips but his back bowed as much as his fused spine would allow. The pleasure was so intense and sharp, a tremor echoed from his groin to quiver out to his extremities leaving him gasping as another quake would ripple through him. The precipice was rapidly approaching as John’s speed increased, impossibly fast and impossibly good.

Suddenly he was there. It was like what observing a star going nova must feel like; a tiny spark that radiated out in a beautiful fractal of color, light, sound and sensation. His body seized in a rectus of delight and ecstasy as his thick seed surged through him into the hot cavity. Each burst of ejaculate was preceded by a tightening of his perineum and waves of jolting pleasure. His anal sphincter clenched and released hard in accompanying waves.

His thighs quivered as the assault waned, leaving him weak and fatigued with a languid hum of bliss and contentment coursing through his being. With a sigh, Harold pried his fingers off the headboard to stroke John’s temples and let the younger man stop his ministrations. Reese got the message and carefully licked clean the sensitive organ. Once satisfied that all of Harold’s DNA was inside him, Reese rested his head on the soft furry belly that shook with heavy breathing.

John was so turned on that it took a few moments for the former agent to realize he had started stroking his own cock. With his head still cradled by Harold’s belly, and Finch’s fingers lovingly combing through his hair, Reese shuddered and spent himself into his own fist. Never had an orgasm left him feeling so content with his lot in life. If all the pain, suffering, self-doubt and loss of the last 12 years had brought him to this moment, then John would gladly go through it all again. His reward was humbling and soul quenching.

*~*~*

Author's Note: I was asked to provide the recipe for the meal. It seems I am always having these characters cooking and eating.

[Chicken Saltimbocca | Williams-Sonoma](http://www.google.com/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&frm=1&source=web&cd=2&cad=rja&ved=0CEsQFjAB&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.williams-sonoma.com%2Frecipe%2Fchicken-saltimbocca.html&ei=N76gUPSxL8Ks2gW2zYHICA&usg=AFQjCNGNB35GXpr4X4WJjM1BaaZk86VWeg&sig2=5q-QS4tWYFm7YA1H43wm3g)  
[Milan-Style Asparagus](http://www.google.com/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&frm=1&source=web&cd=1&cad=rja&ved=0CDAQFjAA&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.dvo.com%2Fnewsletter%2Fweekly%2F2011%2F11-11-123%2Frecipe_42.html&ei=qr6gUMz-L8jO2AWwloCYDA&usg=AFQjCNHsk1PelDZtZd6IkiNqKWywSBS8tw&sig2=YTsnzZ-FebuEYYWD5ckH5Q)  
[Venetian-Style Potatoes](http://www.google.com/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&frm=1&source=web&cd=2&cad=rja&sqi=2&ved=0CEcQFjAB&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.dvo.com%2Frecipe_pages%2Fitaly%2FVenetian-Style_Potatoes.html&ei=676gUNSxF8em2gWJsIHoAg&usg=AFQjCNEUlJUpKuCFnDtRwhEUPzB0L1TEsw&sig2=NU1uN-eUb9evF-qI3ONoiw)


	17. Chapter 17

 

The morning promised to be congenial but it outright lied. Despite the beautiful weather, bird song and the near conclusion of the case, angry voices filled the rooms. In the study, Reese and Finch were loudly debating the prudence of Finch going to the self-storage company to hack into the surveillance and analyze the footage to make doubly sure no one had attempted to break into Captain Starsky’s unit.

Down the hall in the living room, Hutch and Starsky were in a heated discussion about letting Starsky anywhere near the building or Nick Starsky.

In the kitchen, Carter was smacking Fusco upside the head for taking the last apple cinnamon muffin, homemade from scratch by Finch and Hutch.

To say discord was afoot, was an understatement.

Reese stormed out of the study, red faced and indignant. Harold followed at a much more sedate and smug pace.

John took two heartbeats to survey the argument in front of him and bellowed, “Starsky stays here and that is final!” The noise prompted Carter and Lionel to peek out the doorway but they weren’t stupid enough to draw attention to themselves with Reese in ‘a mood’.

The former CIA operative continued to order everyone about but didn’t so much as turn his head toward his employer. “Hutch, Finch and Fusco can come but Carter stays with the Captain.”

So proclaiming, Reese double checked his weapon and headed down, taking the stairs to try to cool off.

Slightly stunned, it took Starsky a few moments to collect himself enough to protest. “Wait a damn minute. Hutch and Harold have injuries and limitations. How is it better having them along than me?”

Carter assisted Fusco with his overcoat and used the ruse of smoothing out the wrinkles to check that Lionel wore his vest. “Because no one is actively looking for Harold or Hutch. John is right. Hutch should know where the stuff is about as well as you and has a legal right to be in there. Finch can check surveillance for any break-ins and Reese … Well the less I know of what John plans to do the longer my career on the force will be.”

“This just ain’t right Hutch.” Starsky pleaded.

“Babe, this is how it needs to be.” Ken patted his partner’s stomach. “You can’t go running around town. A moving target is still a target."

“I don’t like it.” The sexagenarian pouted.

“Hey, I’m none too happy either.” Fusco stated as he holstered his gun and made for the elevator. “Not only do I have to cover Finch, you and myself but I got to keep an eye on The Punisher down there.”

He pushed the button and waved Finch, Bear and Hutch over. “Cause you know who Carter’s gonna blame for any kneecaps that get shot out? Me, that’s who.”

Carter stood by Starsky with her arms crossed. “Quit your belly aching and move your butt.”

The three men entered the elevator with Bear in tow. Hutch eyed Fusco with a questioning glance. Lionel caught the Councilmen’s eye and barked, “What? He’s already pissed ‘cause Mr. Know-it-all won the argument.”

Harold stiffened as the doors closed and stated primly, “John and I do not argue. We had a rational debate and Mr. Reese saw the logic of my side.”

Lionel snorted and elbowed Hutch. “Right, like you didn’t threaten to withhold favors.”

“Detective!” Finch chirped indignantly.

Hutch laughed so long and hard that it drifted up to Starsky & Carter. Both were a little worried that it sounded slightly hysterical but let it slide.

 

* ~ * ~ *

Inside the car wasn’t any more pleasant. Reese was still keyed up and took too many turns at breakneck speeds. Hutch had to have the front seat because of his long legs, which left Lionel in the back with Finch and Bear.

With a screech, the car idled in front of the Out-O-Space storage entry. Hutch told Reese their entrance code. The long metal gate slowly rolled away after Reese entered the code, with John impatiently creeping the sedan closer until he could pass through.

“Building seven.” Hutch read off the card he kept in his wallet. “Third floor, unit 314.”

Reese parked in front of building seven and turned to the back seat. “I want everyone to stay in the car. Hutch, give me the codes and key.” John pocketed both and looked at Fusco. “When I call with the all clear, Finch, Bear and Hutch can look at the camera feeds outside the door. You stay in the car ready to drive off with everyone if anything looks suspicious.”

Harold frowned. “What about you John?”

Reese ignored the question to bark more orders at the armed members of their party. “Hutch and Bear cover Finch, Lionel keeps the look out. Don’t worry about me. I can handle it. Just get yourselves out. I can escape much easier without having to worry about you four.”

Reese turned to Bear and gave a soft command that did not sound Dutch. John ignored his employer’s raised eyebrow and popped out of the car to proceed into the building.

“Well, I for one hope that was a command to allow me to help you out of the car.” Hutch offered as he opened Harold’s door.

The billionaire grimaced, letting Bear tumble out and glared at Kenneth. “I don’t require …:”

Hutch shook his head and his cane, reminding them all that Finch did not have one. “It’s December in New York. If my leg is killing me then so is yours.”

Fusco got in the driver’s seat trying to hide his chuckles.

Harold decided to concede and rose with as much dignity as he could, gathering a small laptop and a leather case from the seat. Within moments, Fusco’s phone chirped, receiving the all clear from Reese.

Hutch gave Finch a pointed look and Harold huffed, grabbing the Councilman’s arm. The limping pair made their way to a metal box near the fire escape. The padlock was quickly dispatched, as the former police detective found the patterns in Bear’s fur incredibly interesting.

Bear circled the men as Hutch stood with his back to Finch, hiding the tech genius from casual view and gripping his magnum inside his coat pocket. Keystrokes and warm breaths were the soundtrack as Ken watched the parking lot. Finally, a grunt from Harold and soft command to Bear had them heading for the warmth of the sedan.

Hutch settled a disgruntled Finch in the back before swinging into the passenger seat. “Any word from Reese?”

“Nah, he- whoa!” Lionel nearly tumbled out as Reese unceremoniously opened the door and yanked Fusco none too gently out. John impatiently adjusted the driver’s seat as Fusco got in the back. “It’s a mess in there. Finch? Have you downloaded the footage?”

Harold was relieved to have his partner speaking to him again. “Yes, and I have patched into the system. My programs will alert me if anything suspicious happens to the feeds or anyone goes near the unit.”

Ken grunted. “Suspicious other than what you just did.”

Finch nodded with a small smile. “Quite.”

“I took pictures of everything from every angle.” Reese handed over a digital camera for Hutch to look through and eased the car out of the lot. “Maybe you and Starsky can make heads or tails of it. But it looks like stuff was just thrown in willy-nilly.”

“We had movers combine our stuff with Rachel’s.” Ken frowned at the display screen showing upturned boxes in disorganized piles. “I guess we shouldn’t have assumed they would unpack in the order that we packed.”

John snorted and entered traffic heading back to the safe house. “It will take days to sort through.”

Finch gestured for the camera. “If Nick or David can tell me what the Torah might be in or near, I can upload these pictures and write an algorithm to sort through these. At the very least it can rule out where we don’t need to look.”

Fusco called out, “Yeah, about Nick? Shouldn’t he be getting fed right about now?”

Reese grimaced. “I was hoping he’d get breakfast at County lock up by now.”

In a low voice, Hutch said, “Starsky wants to see him.”

John looked briefly at Ken. “Out of the question.”

Hutch shrugged. “I agree, but..”

"John.” Finch hesitated to once again disagree with his partner. “We’ll need Nick to look at the pictures and steer us in the right direction.”

“Alright Dammit! Alright!” Reese angrily punched the steering wheel. He swerved to a parking spot, furiously rolled out of the car and opened Fusco’s door.

“Lionel you take them home and get some sleep. I’ll bring Nick by.” Fusco hurried to get as far away from Reese as possible. The taller man bent to address the carload. “It may take me a while. I’ll have to pull a spy vs. spy to keep a possible tail away from the safe house.” Irritably, Reese pointed a black gloved finger at Finch. “But I warn you, that much time alone with Nick Starsky might tempt me to just drop him in the East River.”

He slammed the door and drew his coat around him. The dark figured quickly blended with the crowd and would have been lost if John wasn’t so tall.

Lionel checked both lanes and eased into traffic and away from Reese. Hutch turned to Harold. “How is he going to get to Jersey?”

Finch watched his lover’s stiff-backed form for as long as distance and his neck injuries would allow. “Probably steal a car.”

At Ken’s raised eyebrows, Fusco tilted his head. “It’s for a good cause.”

Hutch faced forward and sighed. “Right.”

 

 

* ~ * ~ *


	18. Chapter 18

Hours later, Reese pulled a disgruntled and put-upon Nick out of the elevator at the safe house. Immediately Captain Starsky ran to his side. “Why is he blindfolded?”  
  
Reese removed the blinders. “He doesn’t need to know where we are.”  
  
Nick blinked at the bright light, then smiled beatifically. “Hey Davey!” He made to hug his brother but stopped and frowned at the handcuffs.  
  
Starsky looked to Reese. “Are those necessary?”  
  
Carter, Hutch and Reese said simultaneously, “Yes!”  
  
Starsky shrugged and hugged his baby brother tight, nearly lifting him off his feet. “God, I thought I would never see you again.”  
  
When the brothers broke apart, both had tears in their eyes. Starsky pulled Nick over to the living room couch talking a mile a minute; catching up and scolding Nick in equal turns. Hutch and Carter moved toward Reese and the other side of the room.  
  
Carter spoke first. “So, what’s your plan?”  
  
“We get Nick to tell us where the key might be and Finch works on his search algorithm. Nick can sleep in the living room with Fusco guarding him. He stays cuffed.”  
  
Hutch grunted. “Good.”  
  
Carter raised an eyebrow at Hutch while Reese slipped away to find Harold.

~ * ~ * ~

  
  
“Finch? Make sure you are out of the way. Nick doesn’t need to connect you to all this.”  
  
Harold looked up from his monitors and shifted his whole torso to look at Reese with an arched eyebrow. “Being held against his will doesn’t need to be connected to Captain Starsky or the detectives either, Mr. Reese.”  
  
John leaned casually against a low set of bookcases, waving away the concern. “Carter and Fusco are assigned to guard Starsky. They discovered his brother was alive. Nick is under protective custody until such time as both Starskys can come out of hiding.”  
  
Finch frowned. “Do you really think Detective Carter needs Nick Starsky to point out her connection to the man in the suit?”  
  
“As far as Nick knows, I’m a cop.” Reese ran a hand through his hair. “My boss could be anyone who has the authority to ask me to protect the Captain. The protective cover angle works in my favor but not yours.”  
  
Harold sighed. John was not going to like what he had to say. “Mr. Reese, I will need to ask Nick Starsky questions about where exactly he placed the key. Also, what the Torah is in and where would Rachel Starsky have put it.”  
  
“Finch.” Reese spoke slowly. “Nick has powerful allies who were willing to kill him after he served them faithfully for thirty years. Do you really want them to know what you look like?”  
  
John’s tone caused Harold to bristle and add more sarcasm than was strictly needed. “I suppose it is perfectly fine for them to know who you are after youkidnappedtheir man?”  
  
“No.” Reese answered breezily unaware of his lover’s brewing resentment. “But I can handle it.”  
  
“And I can’t, is that what you mean?” Finch stood and turned narrowed eyes to his employee. “I will have you know Mr. Reese that I have far more power at my disposal than you could ever guess.”  
  
Reese saw the determined set to Harold’s jaw and the simmering anger in the blue eyes. He realized Finch was going to be stubborn, possibly getting himself hurt. “Fine! If you want to be an open target guess there isn’t a damn thing I can do about it.” Reese stormed out and slammed the door angrily as he and Bear descended the stairs at a fast trot.  
  
Finch sat and put his head in his hands. “That could have gone better.”  


~ * ~ * ~

  
Starsky took the opportunity to tap Hutch on the shoulder. “You’ve been quiet. Nothin’ to say to Nick after we thought he was dead for thirty years?”  
  
“He’s your brother Starsk.” The blond shrugged and stood carefully making his way down the hall to their bedroom. Hutch was exhausted after listening to Nick pass the buck for nearly an hour talking to Finch. Or rather, ‘Rudi Block’ a computer expert hired by the department. It was a relief when Carter escorted Nick to the john.  
  
Ken sighed when he noticed the brunet following. “We’ve never really had much to say to each other. Well, nothing nice anyway.”  
  
Kenneth was tired and aching. Tired of hearing Nick blame everyone but himself, and his heart ached for his lover and Rachel. To love a man like Nick Starsky was an endeavor in heartbreak. Hutch gently sat on their bed and tried to ignore his pest of a partner leaning against the doorframe staring at him.  
  
Starsky rubbed his head. “Can’t you see your way to maybe forgiving him? For me?”  
  
“Don’t.” Hutch’s head snapped up, his eyes blazing. He stood and walked purposely over to the man that had been his world for forty years. “Don’t you dare!” Hutch swallowed hard and pointed at his partner. “For you? I’d die for you. I’d kill for you.” The agitated man turned and walked back to his side of the bed trying to calm the anger and despair welling up inside. “It’s because I love you so damn much that I can’t forgive him. I won’t stop you from doing what you need to do to love your brother, but I can’t just ignore the hurt he has caused.” Ken didn’t turn to look back, he was too caught up in memory and grief. “I can’t forget holding Rachel’s hand as she breathed her last asking, pleading for her youngest son. He just let you two believe he burned up in that prison. I can’t Starsk.”  
  
Starsky moved behind Hutch and circled the widened waist. The curly head softly landed on a shoulder.  
  
Voice breaking, Hutch continued in a whisper. “Don’t ask me to.”  


~ * ~ * ~

  
  
Reese’s heart stopped when his phone indicated a call from Harold. “Finch! Anything wrong?”  
  
“Yes.” Finch took a breath and swallowed audibly. “We can’t seem to stop fighting. That is most definitely wrong.”  
  
The younger man sighed. “Harold…”  
  
“Mr. Reese, I am your employer, friend and lover. I have as much right to endanger myself as you do.” Finch paced the bedroom slowly. “When you constantly coddle me, it makes me feel that you… that you don’t consider me an equal. I’ve worked too hard to be relegated to research only. If you can’t treat me as your partner…”  
  
“Harold, I don’t consider you an equal.”  
  
Finch’s eyes stung. His breath stopped. The sharp pain was far more overwhelming then he could have guessed. To be seen as an incompetent liability by John hurt so much it stole his voice.  
  
Reese’s own voice came through the line again. “I consider you far more important and vital to the mission than me.”  
  
Harold frowned but decided to listen without comment. As much as Finch wished to end this discord, his involvement with the Numbers would never be up for compromise.  
  
Reese turned into a breezeway that would give him some privacy from innocent ears. “I might be able to access the Numbers as ‘The Contingency’ but my computer skills are no where near yours. Sure, I can research and hack some things, but you can access anything. Your expertise is invaluable. If something happens to me then you just need a new asset. If you, if…”  
  
Reese huffed and stuttered, trying to gain control over his voice as he emerged out of the alley and joined his fellow pedestrians. “I’d have been dead or still in prison without you having my back. I know you think I can bend space and time and never fail. The reality is, without you in the library, safe and secure; Sam Gates would have been killed along with his father, me,andmost of the Numbers after that. Where would the Irrelevant list be then?” 

On the street, John stopped to gather his wits and stooped to pet Bear. “You once told me that knowledge wasn’t your problem but doing something with that knowledge was where I came in. Well, I’m here to tell you that skill and a sound body to carry it out is nothing without good, trustworthy intel and reliable back up.”  
  
John stood and swiftly crossed an intersection. “I won’t insult you by suggesting all my concern is for my handler and my information man, but honestly, I would fight you on this even if we weren’t getting personal. The situation with Nick is in no way under my control. You are too important to risk, on aprofessionallevel. A normal case, where I have all the angles covered, maybe you can be in the field. The circumstances with the Estonians and when Donnelly caught me,” There was a pregnant pause. “Then the whole mess with Kara, were too close for my professional pride and this is turning into another cluster fuck.”  
  
A quiet park provided a bench to rest on as Reese made a confession. “On a personal level? God, Harold. I barely survived losing Jessica. I can’t, please don’t.” The hardened warrior couldn’t continue as images of Finch, broken and bleeding merged with the autopsy photos of Alicia Corwin and the body of Denton Weeks. Thinking of what Root was capable of doing should Finch be distracted with helping Reese constricted John’s chest painfully.  
  
Finch took a bracing breath and prepared a confession of his own. “I know John. I understand. I feel the same but we can’t hide away in a cabin in the mountains. The Numbers need us. Not just you or Carter or Fusco:Us.” He swallowed. “I need the Numbers as well. I need to know I can still help, on a professional level. On a personal level?”  
  
Harold let the hot tears fall as he removed his glasses. “On a personal level, I know what it feels like to be unable to protect the most important people in your life. I got lucky in a way. Grace wasn’t a former CIA agent hunted by authorities but shewasin danger because of my work. Will Ingram isn’t a vigilante helping the Irrelevants but his connection to his own father and me puts him at risk to this very day.” Finch paused and gulped. “Nathan.” Harold held a hand to his mouth and shuddered. “Nathan died because of The Machine I built. You are in danger everyday doingmywork.”  
  
“Ourwork.” Reese interrupted, “Our work Harold.”  
  
Finch laughed sadly. “Yes, John. It has to be our work. We need to be partners in this and all things. I need to know that you will allow me to protect the most important person in my life anyway I can.”  
  
Something Reese told Starsky not too long ago filtered through John’s mind. “You have a right to protect those you love. Your love gives you that right.”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
Reese unleashed Bear and threw a tennis ball. “I understand and I’m sorry. I just need time.”  
  
“I know. So do I. I’m not accustomed to sharing my thoughts or my life.”  
  
Bear returned and released the slobbered ball. Reese threw it again. “You sound tired.”  
  
“I am.” Finch nodded to himself. “And sore.”  
  
John smiled at the admission knowing it was Harold’s way of making amends. “Take a hot bath, rest. When I get back, I’ll try out those massage techniques Hutch showed me. And before you tell me you have work, do we have a new Number?”  
  
Finch pinched his lips together. “No.”  
  
John smiled and pitched the ball for Bear. “Can you do anything to speed up the algorithm?”  
  
Harold huffed. “No.”  
  
“Fine.” John tried to keep the amusement out of his voice. “Carter and Fusco have been assigned by the city of New York to protect Captain Starsky and his lover.  We can take a few hours off.”  
  
“I suppose.” The smile was evident in Harold’s tone.  
  
“Please?” John wheedled.  
  
“Yes.” Finch sighed. “For you.” Harold smiled openly this time. “I love you.”  
  
Reese laughed softly. “Love you too even if you are stubborn.”  
  
“Birds of a feather,” murmured the older man.  
  
John laughed aloud at that. Harold signed off and removed his earpiece with a lighter heart.

~ * ~ * ~

  
  
  
By the time Reese tired Bear of fetch and took another, longer route to the safe house, Hutch and Lionel were preparing dinner. The Mutt & Jeff pair were laughing and getting along well. Captain Starsky and his brother were amiably talking in the living room under the watchful eye of Carter. She and Reese locked eyes. Carter nodded. John bobbed his head in thanks and went in search of his partner.  
  
When Reese opened their bedroom door, Bear rushed past and greeted his other owner. Harold was standing in nothing but a robe, hair still wet from his bath.  
  
Lust and longing arrowed through John like a bolt unexpectedly. His nostrils flared and his blood sang in his veins. Reese made his way to his lover with calculated and predatory steps.  
  
John carelessly tore the burgundy terry robe open. Harold was pink and glowing from the heat of his recent bath. The cold air on bare skin hardened both nipples. The sight of the naked form engulfed John in a flame of lust and need.   
  
Reese latched his teeth into a soft shoulder, pulling his body flush against his mate. Both gun callused hands filled themselves with an ample rump under the robe. John growled against Harold’s throat and hauled the older man up.  
  
Finch, growing accustomed to his lover’s manhandling and deciding to trust implicitly, circled the trim waist with both thighs.  Reese carefully walked them the three steps to the huge mattress. With tenderness, John deposited them both on the bed.  
  
The full weight of a man who could walk into a U.S. Marshal’s office and single handedly dispatch everyone in his path, descended upon Harold. It was not a frightening experience.  
  
On the contrary, Finch felt safe and cosseted. John blanketed him with a body that could destroy almost any enemy that dared direct their attention at Finch. A rippling stomach brushed along Harold’s torso. Slim hips swiveled their way between the older man’s knees. An iron bar, blood hot and cloth encased pressed its suit along side Harold’s own naked arousal.  
  
The day’s stubble rasped across Harold’s face as John scattered wet, open-mouthed kisses from clavicle to temple. Finch groped at the broad shoulders.  
  
Eventually, Harold was able to pull the black suit jacket down to John’s waist. Realizing that Finch was trying to undress him, Reese moved his arms one at a time to allow the removal of the coat.  
  
Said coat was thrown clear across the room to land at Bear’s bed. The startled canine raised his head and both ears. Scenting the air and recognizing the pheromones by now, Bear whimpered and lay back down with both paws over his eyes.  
  
On the bed, Reese continued to explore Finch with mouth and hands. The strong, lithe body draped over Finch, hunched to keep as much contact as possible. Hips were ground together. Gray and brown chest hairs were combed through long, talented fingers. A soft belly was squeezed and kneaded with enthusiasm.  
  
Frustrated with the barrier of clothing, Harold caught a straying hand and unbuttoned a cuff. Reese felt the restraint of his arm and lifted his head. John realized Harold still had the robe on and quickly divested his lover. So engrossed in John’s unveiling, that Finch didn’t register that Reese was able to see his surgical scars. Harold’s exposed back beckoned to Reese who massaged and reveled in the freedom to touch every peak of scar tissue and valley of smooth, pale flesh. Finch used John’s own distraction to unfasten the pants and get the shirt open, forgetting to be self-conscious of the exposure of his healed wounds.  
  
Finally presented with all that tanned skin, it was Harold’s turn to explore. Finch smoothed his hands along the hard chest. Harold’s mouth latched on to an enticing nipple causing Reese to gasp. John now understood that his own exposure was well rewarded.  
  
Reese rocked them both up to a sitting position with Harold in his lap.  Reese leaned back placing his and Harold’s weight onto John’s sturdy legs. Finch clung to the steely contours of his lover’s rib cage, his lips never leaving the hot, dry skin as John pulled off his shirt.  
  
Reese cradled the older man’s head as he pitched them forward, pressing his throat deeper into Harold’s jaw, understanding at last the unconscious trust Finch was displaying. With one hand used to hover over Finch, John maneuvered the other to shimmy out of his trousers.   
  
Finch quickly insinuated his hands under the waistband of John’s boxers to get them down those lean, muscular and elongated legs. Reese managed to kick his shoes off, and then fling the pants and underwear down the side of the mattress.  
  
Naked to his lover, John began to slide his torso up. The curly hairs on Harold’s chest crackled against the smooth expanse of solid muscle.  
  
Desperate to get closer, John ran his left hand under Finch. He squeezed that enticing ass hard, eliciting a squeak from the older man.  With his head buried in the crook of Harold’s neck, Reese began to rock his pelvis down, humping desperately.  
  
Puffs of hot air ruffled the soft hairs surrounding Harold’s ear. “Oh, John. You feel so good.”  
  
Panting, Reese managed to husk out, “Want you Harold. Want to feel you deep inside me, like we will never be apart.”  
  
Finch gripped the muscular frame above and stilled. “John? What?”  
  
Reese reluctantly raised his head. Kiss swollen lips and eyes half-lidded met Harold’s startled, wide pupils. “I want you to fuck me Finch. Can we?”  
  
“John! I.. I’ve never.”  
  
“I know.” Reese kissed the worried mouth. “I have. Just, just lie back and let me ride you.” When Finch looked doubtful, John explained. “I need it. All day it’s felt like you were slipping away from me. I need you to become a part of me. Please?”  
  
Harold bit his bottom lip. “Won’t I hurt you?”  
  
“No.” Reese licked the bruised lip until Finch stopped biting it. “I’ll stretch myself and straddle you. Can we?”  
  
Harold nodded hesitantly. “If you’re sure.”  
  
At Finch’s acquiescence, Reese involuntarily thrust down and gasped. “Desperate and sure, Harold.”  
  
John quickly rolled to his nightstand and opened the top drawer. While Harold nervously scooted to the head of the bed, Reese pulled out lube and a stripe of condoms.  
  
Finch frowned. “Will we need condoms? I know you’re clean and I’m, well…”  
  
“Yes.” Reese’s tone allowed for no debate. “They ease the way, will help you last longer this being your first time and the clean up is easier. In addition, I was checked in the CIA before I was on the streets. I don’t think I came into contact with too many junkies and infected hookers but,” John looked straight into Harold’s eyes. “I won’t risk possibly exposing you. I’ll be checked soon then again in six months to make sure. If I’m still clean then, we can try this without the condoms.”  
  
Finch felt pinned under that determined stare. “Ok.”

~ * ~ * ~

  
**Author’s Note** ;Rudi Block is a character fromThe Trail by Franz Kafka. The book Harold admired and purchased inIdentity Crisis.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd to get this posted. So, any typos or corrections appreciated.

While Nick had been bustled passed the open door to his brother’s room quickly by Carter after his bathroom break, it was not quick enough to prevent Nick from seeing Hutch and Davey in an intimate clench.

_What the hell is going?_ Nick was stunned and confused. _Is Davey? With Hutch?_ None of this was making any sense. How could such a strong and macho guy like his older brother allow that, that fruit Hutch to touch him like that?

In Nick’s mind, this was all wrong. Hutch must have done something. As Carter got Nick settled on the couch again, the younger Starsky started making plans to get his brother out of this mess. Davey was always there for Nick until Ma shipped him off to California.

Nick now wondered if maybe Ma knew something about Davey’s proclivity. Maybe Nick lost his big brother all those years ago when he needed support the most because Ma saw this and tried to stop it.

This all just didn’t make any damn sense to Nick. Hutch he could see. Hutch was always weird, always hanging around. A real wet blanket when fun was on the agenda. But Davey? David was a real man: always looking out for Nick and his friends, flirting with the ladies.

Since Papa passed, David was the man of the house and took that responsibility seriously.

Aunt Rosie and Uncle Al took his big brother in when David was 14 or so. They never said they had any problems. Most times when they called, they glowed about how helpful and mature Davey was. When did this start?

Nick remembered the shooting in 1979. He had business in Jersey but family came first. He and Ma came right out to see David. Hutch was around sure but not like this. Nick would have noticed and put a stop to it.

Business couldn’t wait, he and Ma returned home after a few weeks. That left Davey with Hutch. Ma was sure that Hutch would take good care of her eldest. Had they been wrong? Had Hutch used David’s injury to, to convince Davey that he had to do **_that_?**

Nick Starsky was angry, angry at Hutch for perverting his brother and angry with Ma for not seeing it.

Hutch and David come back in to the living room as if nothing strange went on. Like screwing a man is natural or something. Well, fuck this!

Is this what he came back for? A faggot for a brother and Ma dead and buried? Nick Starsky has better people, better friends. Just give him a minute and the Boss would be getting a phone call from his number one guy. Nick eyed the landline on the side table and started making plans.

 

*~ * ~*

John panted and groaned when he added a third finger. His lover’s eyes were intense and full of heat and want. Harold’s abilities for lust and sex were no longer in question. Finch watched Reese scissor the three fingers and moaned. His cock ached and its curve was boldly evident.

Finally satisfied that he was stretched enough, John moved to straddle Harold. Finch gripped John’s forearms with naked desire painted clearly over his prominent features. John swooped down and sealed their lips in an intense kiss.

Carefully, John grasped the hard shaft: slicking the latex that had taken them three tries and much patience to teach Finch to put on. Harold was propped on pillows in an easy sitting position that allowed Reese to hold the headboard for support. One hand on the sturdy wooden panel and the other holding that steely length, Reese smoothly lowered his body to allow Finch’s cockhead to breach his opening.

The initial burn and stretch would have been unpleasant if John wasn’t aching for the familiar and long lost sensation. As it was, Reese gasped at the pleasure and feel of it. Finch’s mouth formed an O of surprise.  The tight warm fit and soft yet firm hold on his phallus was new and entirely overwhelming.

Reese grunted and moved down to engulf the first inch of shaft. “Don’t try to thrust. I know it feels like you have to but I need to control the entry.”

All Harold could do was nod. His face was turning an alarming shade of red. John laughed. “Breathe, Finch.”

Harold gulped a ragged intake of air. “I’m afraid I’ll climax and ruin it for you.”

John’s face went slack with tenderness. “Just feeling you now is more than I ever hoped to get. We can always try later. Enjoy yourself Harold. Let me see you.”

 Having gotten as sappy as a horny ex-army grunt could, Reese took in another inch of that long dick and his body flushed all over. This is what he needed, the physical evidence that Harold was a part of him now. That they were connected, forever tied to one another. John needed this tangible proof to ease the panic and fear.

The verification of their union allowed Reese to relax enough to lower himself further, enveloping almost all of that wonderful, rigid flesh. God he missed this, this feeling of oneness with another, that overriding complete sensation that takes you over and makes this more than fucking. That feeling that this person connects you to the world.

Harold gasped and keened. The urge to thrust into the taut, welcoming warmth was almost more than he could bear. To imagine people do this all the time! How do they survive this powerful moment? Every emotion that Finch had ever experienced was brought to the surface. Love, pleasure, happiness along with despair, longing and sadness threatened to spill forth from every pore. Dear God, the sheer magnitude of sensation!

Reese inhaled and exhaled twice then allowed his full weight to press them impossibly close. Harold squawked. Not in pain, John was sure, but in ecstasy. Reese was the one being impaled but Finch was so completely in his body right now that Reese was the power and the control.

John never wanted to be a bully; in fact, he hated most people who sought power over others. However, the glorious knowledge that Harold utterly and absolutely belonged to John brought forth all the male posturing and ego that Reese possessed.

John wanted to amaze and impress. He wanted to make this an experience, their first time, that Finch would relive time and time again.

With this in mind, Reese took hold of the headboard with both powerful hands and lifted up with his thighs. Then John pushed down with all his might eliciting streams of babble and praise from Finch. Reese worked the heavy length inside him for all he was worth, swiveling his hips to catch the head against his own prostate. His thighs burned and sweat threatened to drip from his face as he gazed at Finch. Harold’s face was sagging into the gratification. His eyes were blazing with so much love it nearly took John over the edge. 

When Reese would bottom out, Finch would bark John’s name. When Reese would pull up, Finch would croon sweet words of devotion and loyalty. Watching Finch revel in bliss was almost as good as coming for Reese. Nevertheless, soon John’s arousal was throbbing with need. “Touch me Harold. Stroke me. Ah! Need you.”

Harold took a firm hold of John, so out of his mind with desire he didn’t think twice about inexperience or a lack of practical knowledge. Guided by their rhythm and an innate, primal awareness, Finch pulled and fondled John’s erection with enthusiasm and gratitude.

Reese called out his lover’s name and sped up. The dual sensations were dragging him toward sweet oblivion. John squeezed his internal muscles out of tune to his thrusts making Harold stutter and finally scream.

John wished avidly that he could have felt Harold fill him with seed but his own wants were secondary to keeping Finch safe. Satisfied that Harold reached climax, John let himself roll into the next downward move, hitting his prostate directly. Sparks filled his eyes as his whole being went stalk still and he growled low in the back of throat. Waves of euphoria rippled and quaked from his ass to his shaft, up his spine.

Finally, Reese filled Harold’s fist with three powerful eruptions and went boneless with delight. John fell forward, catching himself with his arms to safeguard Finch. Harold stroked him through aftershocks that telegraphed through to Finch’s own softened and sensitive organ.

With care to the mess, Reese lifted off, and retrieved the condom. He tied it and threw it in the bin by the bed. Then they both sprawled out on the mattress to catch their breath. Suddenly one of the monitors on the desk beeped startling them both.

Bear huffed and Finch laughed. “The program is finished.”

Reese pulled Harold close and covered his eyes with the other arm. “We’ll check on it after a nap and some supper.”


	20. Chapter 20

Everyone agreed around a simple supper of meatloaf, real homemade mashed potatoes and little honey and cinnamon glazed baby carrots that they would storm the storage unit in the morning.  
   
The program spat out a photo highlighting a chest of drawers that was over turned but undamaged. Starsky was a bit distressed at the mover’s carelessness. Nick and Starsky both recognized it as the place their Mother kept family heirlooms. A book could be seen peeking out of the second to last drawer in the enlarged photo.  
   
Around a mouth full despite the cuffs, Nick said, “It looks like my Torah.”  
   
Starsky looked incredulously at his younger brother. “How could you put a mobster’s stolen loot in your Torah?” He shook his head sadly. “Ma gave you that to show she saw you as a man. How could you Nicky?”  
   
Nick shrugged. “It was the best place for it.”  
   
David blinked. “In our Mother’s home?”  
   
“Just drop it Davey.” Nick’s shoulders hunched and he mumbled. “ You wouldn’t understand. You’ve changed man and not for the better.  
   
Reese grunted around his second plate, having discovered that good sex left him ravenous. “This from a stoolie for a suspected pedophile.”  
   
Nick huffed. “Those girls looked eighteen!”  
   
“Really?” Hutch asked. He and Finch had researched Nick’s boss. What they found made them both sick. “A twelve year old looks eighteen?”  
   
Nick sneered at Hutch. “Stay out of this fairy.”  
   
Within half a millisecond, Reese was up and dragging Nick out of his chair by his neck. “Listen here you useless waste of good food.” John growled low and slammed Nick hard against the dining room wall. “You are only our guest instead of some gang banger’s bitch because your brother wanted to see you.” Nick scrambled uselessly with his cuffed hands at John’s grip as Reese whispered low and gravely.  “If you can’t keep a civil tongue in your head.”  
   
Nick gasped loudly. “What you’ll cut it out?”  
   
Reese gave the younger Starsky a sneering smile. “Too messy and too high a risk of bleeding out.” John cocked his head to the side and shook Nick a little. “No. I find stringing a man up by his neck to dangle on the tips of his toes to be highly effective in shutting him up.”  
   
Reese whispered directly into Nick’s ear. “He is usually too busy not breaking his own neck to think about expressing himself anymore.”  
   
Finch uttered a quiet, “Mr. Reese.”  
   
John let go of Nick so suddenly that the younger Starsky dropped to the floor, rubbing his neck. Reese wiped his hands on his slacks and returned to his seat. “Not exactly dinner conversation. No manners.”  
   
Harold nodded and patted John’s thigh under the table to let Reese know that Finch wasn’t upset with John’s action. “If we can all return to the matter at hand please?”  
   
Fusco took his eyes away from Nick to look at Finch. “Yeah. Who goes where and when?”  
   
Harold sipped his water. “Mr. Reese, Detective Carter and Bear can search the locker. Kenneth and I can review footage and set up a perimeter using the storage company’s own software.”  
   
Reese and Starsky both spoke up in protest. Harold quieted them with a raised hand. “Neither Kenneth nor I can help in the search. Mr. Reese and Carter cannot watch for intruders and search simultaneously. Lionel needs to rest and I am afraid, Captain that you are still in danger.”  
   
Starsky spoke up. “Why is Hutch going?”  
   
Harold sighed and cleaned his glasses. “I will require someone to ‘have my back’ as they say.”  
   
“Why not me then?” The Captain was persistent  
   
Reese grunted. “You stay here.” He put down his fork and took some wine. “You don’t have to like it. Frankly, I don’t want either Hutch or Finch within a mile of that place. But I can’t argue the logic. It makes sense.”  
   
Beside Reese, Harold smiled to himself and dropped his head. Pleased with John’s progress and support, Finch urged everyone to eat and relax as the morning might prove taxing.  
 

*~*~*

Morning came early for John Reese. The sun was rising, Bear was snoring in the dog’s bed and Harold was warm and safe in his arms. Contentment filled the outer edges of John’s mind. Everything he loved was in this room and safe. Finch smelled of sleep, silk and warmth. Harold’s overriding aroma was comforting and left John with a sense of peace he had missed for nearly ten years. Then he looked at the alarm clock.  
   
The world was an unfair place that required a man to leave a bed that was so very much enjoyed. Reese rose, did some yoga stretches then took Bear for a morning run.  
   
Later in the shower, John paused. That feeling, happiness was again creeping up his nervous system. This time, Reese vowed that he would push through his self-doubts and not screw up as he had in the bank. His time in prison and at Kara’s mercy had solidified John’s resolve to protect Finch always, even from Reese’s past.  
   
However, now John had to think of Harold not just as someone to protect but also as someone to turn to. Reese couldn’t let his own demons and low self worth dictate his actions. Harold was his partner and lover now. Their decisions had to be mutual. Reese wasn’t going to make the same mistakes twice or a third time as it happened. If Harold thought John worthy of love and happiness, then who was Reese to argue with a genius?  
   
Resolve set, John shaved and left the bathroom to see Harold doing his morning PT. The plump bottom was stretching the fabric of the forest green pajamas rather enticingly. John sighed and made his way to his duffle to dress: No rest for weary. Reese kissed Finch on the cheek and took Bear out to greet the others.  
 

*~*~*

   
They arrived in separate cars. Reese and Carter armed to the teeth and matching set jaws. It occurred to Harold who was helped out of his vehicle by Kenneth once again, that Reese and Carter were a perfect match in the field. Ex-Army and high morals, both were willing to go to the wall for what they thought was just and right. Both highly skilled and unafraid to get their hands dirty for a righteous cause.  
   
In another life, they would make a rather impressive and attractive couple. Their children would have been stunning. Nevertheless, Finch felt no guilt about the current personal arrangements. Reese had been with the CIA too long, seeing the dark abyss and staring into it for John to be domesticated. Carter would make a wonderful wife and partner but not to Reese as he was now.  
   
Maybe ten years ago before John’s soul was blackened and betrayed. Now, the closest they could come to companionship was an uneasy brother-at-arms situation. Such a strong, intelligent woman would not tolerate John’s lifestyle and the accompanied baggage.  
   
Harold on the other hand had no family to care for, to set examples for or guide. Finch was an island with only occasional visits from outsiders. Harold’s own checkered past and baggage would allow John to be himself. Hopefully, Finch could allow Reese to never feel ashamed of  who he was or what he had done in the name of protecting his country. Harold loved John not despite his violent tendencies and over the top antics but because of them. Mr. Reese used those traits to save others, to save The Numbers when reason and temperance just would not do.  
   
No, Harold felt no qualms about loving John or being loved by him. Finch was not wasting John’s chances for a normal life. His former handlers at the Agency had closed John’s window of opportunity for a wife, children and the American dream long ago. Finch had already resolved to give Reese as much of the American Dream as he could when he bought the apartment. Perhaps being Finch's lover could give John that American dream. After all, they did have dog together.  
   
Said canine was currently circling Nick Starsky as the man exited Carter’s car. The inclusion of Nick to this operation was last minute and hotly debated.  
   
The subject of what to do if the book in the picture was not the Torah, sparked speculations that maybe the Captain should accompany the groups to help search. After all, it was his storage unit and he would know what was in it.  
   
Mr. Reese cut those speculations short. He barked, “Nick lived with her for thirty years. He can help search. He’s expendable you are not.”  
   
With that, he left, closing the subject.  
   
Plans were again changed in regards to Bear. Reese argued quietly and sincerely with Finch beside Harold’s Lincoln for the dog to stay with Finch. John’s arguments were logical if based on selfish motivations. Harold saw no reason to balk. Carter would be with Reese and they both were trained and armed.  
   
Therefore, Bear, Kenneth and Finch would go to the security room and set up sensors to alert them should anyone enter the facility. Harold’s system had been monitoring but it was always a sound practice never to assume the signal was uninterrupted.  In addition, Hutch and Harold could relay activity from the surrounding storage units. Others used the warehouse and they would hate to frighten a family doing some spring-cleaning.  
   
Harold gathered his equipment and the cane that Kenneth insisted on for this cold December sojourn. Reminders of his age and disabilities usually made Finch cross. However, the certainty that John loved him and that Kenneth was genuinely concerned for him made the accessory less onerous.  
   
Both groups met at the entrance to reiterate the plan. Harold was patient with John. He knew that his younger lover was anxious having essentially two civilians and Finch to worry about.  
   
Briefing complete, they made their way to their separate rooms. Hutch, Bear and Harold found the security room vacant and laughably easy to enter. Finch was set up in minutes. “Mr. Reese, there are currently no other patrons on your floor. No one, not even the security guard has been down that aisle for the last two hours. Before that, only four people who never came near that unit in twenty-four hours.”  
   
“Thanks Finch.” Reese tapped his earpiece and signaled to Carter. She opened the unit, drawing the metal door up as John scanned the area and kept an eye on Nick. They were in and the door closed in seconds.  
   
Thankfully, these units were equipped with overhead lighting. Carter found the switch and they all blinked.  
   
“Okay. Ma’s treasure chest was over here.” Nick started over to the upper left corner just to be snatched back by Reese.  
   
“Carter can look. You don’t need to do anything unless we ask you a question. Got it?” Reese tightened his grip on his rifle.  
   
Nearly an hour went by with Carter sifting through the light debris. Occasionally something would be heavy and Reese would have Carter stand guard so that John could move it. He sifted for a few minutes until Carter asked to be allowed to finish. She didn't like Nick and was more enthusiastic about the treasure hunt now that they could actually touch the chest of drawers.  
   
As Carter found the correct drawer, John’s phone vibrated wildly. He tapped his earpiece back on. “Finch? Anything?”  
   
Static filled John’s ear then Harold’s voice. “..wrong…sig……..ker…five m.……nal blocker…..get out.”  
   
Reese whipped his head around to warn Carter, who was holding the Torah when Nick Starsky violently swung an old baseball bat; missing John’s head by millimeters but contacting hard against his shoulder.  
   
Reese stumbled and Carter called out, “Hold it Nick! John? Are you okay?”  
   
Before Reese could answer her, the lights went out.  
 

*~*~*

Harold and Hutch played some light trivia games as they watched the monitors flit. They couldn't see inside the unit but could check the outside areas and all the aisles of every floor in every building. Tedium was no stranger to Harold but Kenneth paced restlessly.  
   
An hour in and two of the monitors flickered then showed nothing unusual. Harold ran a diagnostic and soon discovered that a loop was being run to show an empty lot. Finch didn't hesitate to call Reese.  
   
When the connection to John was finally made, lights and alarms began to go off on Finch’s laptop. Someone was trying to jam the frequency, again. An internal monitor, on John’s floor showed five men obviously dressed for infiltration.  Static from the jammed signal was getting louder. Harold repeated into his earpiece, “Something is wrong, Signal blocker, five men, signal blocker, get out,” hoping John would hear him.  
   
When the call dropped and couldn't be reconnected, Finch looked at Kenneth. The older man held his magnum tight and started for the door.  
   
Finch called out, “Wait! We are needed here. I might be able to reroute a signal and give John a bird’s eye view.”  
   
Kenneth frowned. “Right now they could be sitting ducks.”  
   
Harold walked over to Bear and kneeled down with care. After stroking the anxious pet, Finch rose and opened the door minutely. He then gave Bear some commands in Dutch followed by Reese’s name. The dog scrambled enthusiastically out the door in hot pursuit. Harold looked up at Kenneth. “Bear will find them. If they don’t know there is trouble they will after Bear shows up. We have to stay here and give them every advantage we can.”  
   
Finch’s voice was steady, but as he worked to reestablish their communication, his hands trembled.  
 


	21. Chapter 21

 

Reese blinked into the darkness but soon realized that the seams of the unit were clearly outlined in light. So, Nick must have only turned off the lights in here.

The space was jammed packed with debris and there was no way to tell where Nick or Carter were hiding. Harold’s warning was paramount in John’s mind, but to move might give away his position. Nick was better equipped to defend himself in the darkened room than either Carter or Reese with their guns as neither one wanted to shoot the other accidentally.

While trying to decide a course of action, Reese heard Bear growling, snarling and barking. Several raised voices could be heard including Nick Starsky’s.

“Oh Shit!” Nick yelled. “Keep that murdering mutt away from me.”

Foolishly, Nick scrambled for the door and raised it. He was perfectly silhouetted by the light. John hesitated to shoot. Instead, he took the butt of his rifle and knocked the idiot out. John took a quick glance around the door and called out, “Carter! Five men, armed. Bear’s helping to detain them so be careful.”

The detective quickly positioned herself across from Reese in the open door. John leaned out to get another view, hoping none of those jerks decided to use a gun on Bear.

So far, one guy was on the ground screaming with Bear latched onto his arm. The other four were obviously confused about how to proceed. They didn't look like they were going to help their colleague but continue on to the well exposed unit in the hallway.

Nick had practically turned on a neon sign around them. With nowhere to retreat, Reese could get a shot at two maybe,but the other two would have him right between the eyes. Carter could get one but that left the last guy to simply pick them off or wait for backup. They were sitting ducks.

*~*~*

In the security room, Hutch paced and tried not to hover over Harold.

Finally, Finch sat up. “I think I have it. I can send a micro burst to warn Mr. Reese.” He turned to Hutch and indicated a floor map. “I can use the P.A. system and the light controls to startle the men and possibly herd them to a better vantage point.”

Finch looked beseechingly at Kenneth. “Where is the best place for John and Carter to capture them with minimum causalities?”

Hutch looked questioningly at Harold.

"Kenneth." Finch's eyes were huge and his whole face was naked with fear for Reese and Carter. "I am not trained for strategic confrontations. If you and David were in this situation where would you want your adversaries to be stationed?"

A feral grin spread across Ken's face as he studied the map.

*~*~*

Reese was about to suggest Carter make a run for it as he laid down cover fire when his earpiece squawked with the greatest sound he could imagine: Finch’s voice. “Limited communications. Cover your eyes and ears. North East corner.”

John looked at Carter and grinned. “Cover your eyes and ears.”

Immediately, high pitched, sonic waves assaulted the hall. It pierced the eardrums and was painful until Reese managed to plug his other ear. Soon, all the lights began to strobe in a sickening staccato that brought bile to John’s throat until he closed his eyes.

After about thirty seconds, John’s eyelids stopped transmitting the after effects of the strobe and his face stopped feeling the percussive beat.

Cautiously, Reese opened his eyes to shadows. He peered out quickly and noticed that most of the hallway was dark. He signaled to Carter and they made formation to check the area.

Finch said North East corner so John turned right. That hall was half lit with strobe lights and the pounding started again.

At the end of the hall were the retreating men. Harold had somehow made it possible to push the men where Finch wanted them to go.

Carter and Reese quickly followed as the lights dimmed to let them know it was safe. They reached the North East hallway to see the four men left writhing on the floor and spotlighted by nausea inducing strobes at the dead end. As John and Carter advanced on the men, the strobes ceased.

Joss and Reese were quick to subdue the vomiting quartet. Once secured, all sounds and lights were returned to normal. Carter and Reese unplugged their ears and grinned.

“Got to hand it to Finch, he can work a room.” Carter said too loudly and they both winced.

Carefully, Reese spoke, “Four here, where is the fifth and Bear?”

The P.A. speakers squealed and Harold’s voice came booming at them overhead. “My apologizes for the feedback. Bear has gone after the fifth man who managed to elude his grip when the lights and sounds started.”

John looked up. “The sound didn't hurt Bear did it?”

This time there was only the sound of a microphone clicking on. “We can’t hear you yet. The strobes and sounds would not hurt Bear but the pain made the fifth man strong enough to wrench himself free. In addition, Nick Starsky escaped. I could track him until the parking lot then lost him.”

John nodded. “Okay, we need to get to the security room and I need to go after Bear.”

Carter sighed. “ I've got to call this in you know.”

Reese nodded. “Yeah, let me check with Finch and Hutch." He stopped and turned back to look at her. "You still have the Torah?”

The woman gave Reese a sly and beautiful smile. “Course.” She pulled the book out from under her jacket and gave it to Reese. “Never doubt me.”

John just shook his head and began to run to the security room.

*~*~*

Reese entered the monitoring room gun drawn, startling Hutch and Harold.

“Mr. Reese!" Harold snapped. "Is that entirely necessary? Kenneth could have killed you!”

As a matter of fact, the blond was in a shooting stance with both hands on a magnum  aimed at John’s chest.

Reese lowered his weapon. “Sorry, just making sure.” He made his way over to Finch quickly after locking the door behind him. “You okay?”

John wanted to touch, to check, to smooth his hands all over Harold and make damn sure nothing, not a speck of dirt had touched Finch. However, they were on a case and Reese wasn't in the habit of mauling his partners in the field.

Finch’s blue eyes stared up at Reese with an intensity that registered Harold’s mutual longing to reassure. Hutch cleared his throat. "We seem to be fine but we need to collect Bear and find Nick."

Reese pulled out the Torah, "What you and Hutch need to do is get this to the Captain ASAP."

Harold accepted the book absently. "But Bear..."

John interrupted. "I will get Bear, I promise. We need this secured."

The unspoken plea in John's eyes was  urging Harold to retreat to safety. Finch wanted to argue. However,he knew John would be worried about Bear. Harold staying would compound that worry and spread John's protective instincts too thin. Besides, Kenneth needed to join his spouse.

Decision made, Harold bobbed his head and Reese visibly relaxed. Practically under his breath, John whispered, "Thank you."

*~*~*

 

The ride back to the safe house was quiet as Hutch searched through the Torah and Harold silently fretted about his lover and their dog. Kenneth wasn't just flipping pages, he was reading the tome.  Ten minutes away from headquarters, Hutch gasped and cursed, “That piece of shit! Harold, Nick bore a hole in the book for the key! How could anyone destroy a book like that?”

Finch remained silent as he felt he had no room to argue. Harold remembered his whimsical proposal to Grace. It had seemed like an easy and special way to ask the question. Now, Harold became cognizant that he had defaced a book just to have an obvious segue for asking Grace to marry him. Had he been that concerned? After all, Grace had already asked him herself.

The book and ring were simply traditional symbols of their commitment to each other. Perhaps the idea that if Harold was to fully commit to Grace, he would have to tell her all his secrets made him nervous.

Finch had always regretted bringing the book to the ferry. He had needed to remember why he was finally coming out from behind his curtain. Grace had given Harold the courage to face the world again. Finch had needed to grip the book tight every step of the way to fortify himself.  He had been terrified. Then the explosion had forced Finch back into hiding. The book was now a singed and burned proof to Grace that her Harold was no more.

Harold’s eyes stung with the realization that yes, the ‘Harold’ Grace knew died that day with his best friend, reborn from the ashes like a phoenix or several birds as the case may be. The Harold that John loved was the repaired and cracked remains of Nathan’s friend and Grace’s fiance.

Too soon the safe house was in sight. The guards let them through withoutshowing ID. Finch would have to speak to them about that. If the entrance was so lax in attention, what else have the guards been ignoring? Once again, Kenneth assisted Harold in exiting the car. They made a funny pair, six foot two Kenneth leaning over five foot eight Harold who was leaning too. They formed an amusing arch as they made their way to the elevator.

As the doors opened, Harold discovered he had forgotten some cables in the car. Kenneth agreed to hold the doors as Finch made his way swiftly back to the car. Oddly, the trunk was open. Perhaps the latch gave way or maybe it wasn’t closed properly. In either case, Harold made a mental note to have the trunk checked out by his repair man, minus all of John’s paraphernalia of course. Reese had started to keep certain weapons in the wheel well of the spare tire.

Finch went to close the trunk when he noticed that the carpeting was wrinkled. Perhaps John collected some of his tools before they went into the storage warehouse and forgot to smooth out the carpet.  Not a major concern but it was rather sloppy of John to give away the location of his weapons stash like that. Oh well, Harold would try to brooch the subject later, to make certain John was coping.

Harold joined Kenneth in the elevator and the doors shut. It occurred to Finch that John or even Starsky could have walked up the stairs in the time it took them to get in the elevator. He and Kenneth were a bit of a drag. Harold wondered if their lovers ever felt burdened. Dealing  with a damaged partner, especially one who was prickly about assistance must be very trying on them.

Finch was resolving to be more accepting of John’s help when the doors opened to the main floor of the house. It was already past noon and lunch should be prepared. Finch laid down his equipment in the study.

Harold turned to Kenneth. “Lunch? You can keep that book in here.”

They locked the door to the room and made for the kitchen.  Almost immediately they saw Fusco spread out in an uncomfortable sprawl on the floor in front of the sink.  They both raced over to the fallen man, Harold getting there first. He kneeled and felt for a pulse. Lionel was breathing steadily with a fine strong heartbeat. Harold sighed in relief. He then felt a sharp blow to the head and all went black.

*~*~*

Reese found Bear clutching the arm of a cowering man just outside the main building. The area was tucked between two camera blind spots.  John cuffed the man and told Bear to release. The dog was jubilant. Bear knew he had been a good dog and would be getting a treat. Reese scratched Bear’s ears and laughed.

Reese, Bear, and their prisoner went back inside the building. John was going to hand the man over to Carter then interrogate the whole bunch, see who had paid them, how did they know where to look and what were their instructions. Before John could even push the freight elevator’s button, a payphone in the corner started ringing.

Reese thought to ignore it, but a sick feeling hit him in the pit of his gut. John answered it.

Static, then, “S.O.S. Endangered Birds.” The call disconnected.

Reese felt dizzy as his vision whited out for a second. The Machine wasn’t giving them a new number. It was warning Reese that Finch needed help.

John threw the cuffed man on the elevator and set it for the right floor. He called Carter from his cell as he raced for the door. “Harold is in danger. Not sure from what source. Bear and I are heading to the safe house.”

Reese made it outside before he realized he was on the wrong side of the building. His car was on the opposite side. He could run around the row of buildings or try the rat’s maze of rooms and corridors inside. John began to sprint.

When he arrived at the SUV he was winded and not alone. Carter was waiting behind the wheel, vehicle running. Her window was down and she called out, “Well, hurry your skinny ass up.”

Reese grinned and complied with Bear right on his heels.

*~*~*

Harold awoke groggily, with a headache and without his glasses. He was crumpled painfully on the floor, draped over Fusco’s unconscious body. It seemed that the assailant hit Lionel much harder than he had assaulted Finch.

Stressed and loud voices were what woke Harold from his impromptu slumber. Carefully, slowly, moving until he could see the source of the disturbance, Finch saw the back of Nick Starsky a few feet away. Nick was holding a gun to Kenneth’s head. He was using Hutchinson’s greater height and girth to shield his body from any shots delivered by anyone who might stop him.

Harold shifted minutely to discover Captain Starsky aiming his weapon at his younger brother. The seasoned policeman had only one possible shot when standing across from his brother. David would have to aim and fire for the only visible target Nick was exposing, his head.

The Starskys were arguing fiercely back and forth. David looked frantic, afraid for his lover and his brother. Kenneth would interject to try and calm the pair to be struck with the gun and told to shut up. Nick was furious.

Nick began to accuse Kenneth. “This is all your fault, you god damn faggot! My brother would never pull a gun on me.”

Kenneth tried to breathe through the pain. “Nick, I am your brother’s best friend whatever you think is going on…”

Nick shook Hutchinson hard. “I ain’t stupid Hutch. I saw you two.” The younger Starsky looked over at his brother. “I can’t believe you would choose this sick life over family Davey.”

Captain Starsky looked as if he had been punched in the stomach. “Nick, I didn’t choose anyone over anyone. Just let Hutch go and we can try and get you out of this mess. Please Nicky!”

“Not from you!” Nick snapped. “I don’t want anything from you. You sick fuck. How could you? Maybe if Hutch weren’t around you’d see how wrong this is. Maybe for your own good I should just kill him now.”

“No!” David shouted and tightened his stance, leveled his gun.

*~*~*

Carter was weaving in and out of traffic with all lights and sirens on. Reese knew that no one, not even he could have driven faster. That didn’t help the knot in his throat or the rock in his gut. John kept trying to call every known number Finch had ever given him, nothing. No one was answering: not Fusco, not Starsky, not Hutch, no one.

John’s anxiety was registering with Bear who whimpered and whined in the back seat. The canine kept trying to get his head in between their seats. Bear needed touch and reassurance. Finally, Reese just hauled Bear bodily into his lap.

Carter wisely said nothing as man and beast touched foreheads and appeared to be praying.

*~*~*

Harold looked around frantically for something, anything to work as a distraction. Something that would give the Captain a better aim, a less lethal target. David Starsky could not be forced to kill his own brother. He would never recover.

Harold’s nimble fingers found what appeared to be an ankle holster strapped to Detective Fusco. Silently, Finch pulled out the small back-up pistol. It was warm from Lionel’s body heat yet the weight and feel of the deadly piece made Harold’s whole body shiver with cold dread. He looked up as the altercation escalated. Soon, either David would shoot Nick or Nick would shoot Kenneth. Harold couldn’t allow either scenario to play out.

He gripped the little thing tightly. He had no idea if there was a safety, how many bullets or if it was even loaded. If he made a move, Nick might turn just enough to give David a shot. More than likely, Harold wouldn’t fire the gun correctly or at all. All signs pointed to Finch pulling a trigger, nothing happening. Then Nick would turn and kill Harold.

A horrible outcome but an acceptable one. Neither Kenneth, nor Nick would have to be killed. Therefore, David would not feel responsible for either the death of his lover or his brother. Harold took a deep breathe and raised the weapon. His only regret was John.

As Finch took blurry aim he prayed. He prayed that he wouldn’t hit Kenneth, he prayed that if no bullet was fired that at least Nick would turn around and present a target. He prayed that John wouldn’t find consolationin a bottle again. He prayed that Carter and Fusco would keep John alive, if for no other reason than to finish the work John and Harold started together.

As Harold squeezed the trigger, his only thoughts were,  _please let the numbers be enough to keep John alive_.


	22. Chapter 22

Carter and Reese arrived at the safe house gate and nearly scared the guards into grabbing their tazers. Reese barked orders while Bear snarled and Carter tried to get them all inside the compound. The guards let them in reluctantly. Carter ordered them to not allow anyone else in or out except the police who showed their badges.

John and Bear abandoned the SUV and started running for the house as the gates opened. Carter barely got the vehicle out of the flow of traffic before she too exited and made for the house. Man and beast waited for Carter to meet them at the doors before all three proceeded inside and up the stairs, weapons drawn, teeth bared. They made it silently to the main floor.

Carter was at the doorknob with Reese on the other side of the door frame. She carefully turned the knob and let Bear slip through with orders to find Finch. The canine bolted through the house immediately heading for the kitchen.

Reese broke their huddle first and crossed the room with Carter watching his back. When John entered the kitchen he found Bear whimpering and licking Fusco's face. The detective appeared to only be unconscious on the floor but roughly six feet in front of Lionel was a pool of blood. Reese stared at the blood noticing foot prints and tracks.

Joss gasped behind him and went to check on her partner. Once Carter had Fusco in hand Bear swiftly left the room. He followed the bloody foot prints and blood drops to the hallway where Starsky, Hutch and Carter slept. Bear then disappeared from sight. Reese needed to wait for Carter to follow so he hesitated.

However, Bear gave a muffed woof as if to say 'found him' but no other noise followed. If Bear found Harold then why didn't Harold call out to assure Reese he was fine? John turned and gripped his gun tighter. He glanced at Carter who nodded and rose. She called for back-up and an ambulance. She put her phone away and straightened her shoulders bringing her hands together to grip her pistol with both palms.

John blinked at her and she again nodded. The pair proceeded cautiously, each turning and weaving to keep as much of their perimeter visible as possible, their backs to each other. They crossed the living room and entered the hall. 

With their backs against the wall, Reese and Carter glided silently down the hallway. They arrived at Carter's room. The walls, windows and doors had been sound and bullet proofed when Harold had renovated this property so the only way to hear inside a room was to open a door thus telegraphing your own presence.

Again, Carter stood on the side with the knob and opened the door with Reese entering the archway to clear the room. Nothing here. They closed the door and repeated the procedure across the hall for the guest bathroom: nothing. 

That left the Master bedroom for this wing of the house. This was the room shared by Starsky and Hutchinson. The door was cracked and as they approached closer to the room moans of pain could be heard. John's jaw clenched and his fingers itched. Every cell in his body wanted to rush in and make damn sure that the screams were not Harold's but that would be reckless and leave Carter defenseless.

So, he waited with a sick rolling of his stomach and a dry mouth. Joss herself understood how much control Reese was using and tried to proceed as quickly as possible. She pushed the door open, Reese swiveled into the archway, gun drawn with Joss at his shoulder. The tableau they witnessed nearly knocked the breath out of their lungs.

Nick Starsky writhed on the bed making those pained noises. Hutch appeared to be tying a tourniquet just above Nick's right knee. Blood was everywhere. Even on the land line phone that Captain Starsky clutched in his hand as he called for an ambulance. Reese couldn't see Harold or Bear at all. Through a stiff jaw he barked out, “Where is Harold? Is he hurt?”

Hutch and Starsky both looked up but it was Hutch who answered. “Harold's in the bathroom in shock. Your dog won't let me near him.”

John immediately holstered his weapon. He made for the bathroom door, Carter and protocol forgotten. Hutch grabbed his arm and Reese snarled making the older man wince as Hutch spoke. “Harold shot Nick in the knee to save my life.”

John paused. Hutch and Reese shared a look: both pale and sickly. Each man knew how much using a gun would cost Harold. Neither were sure what actually hitting a man with a bullet would do to such a tender and sensitive soul as Finch. 

John took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Finch had to shoot a gun. Harold shot a human being. Dear God.

Reese nodded at Hutch and turned to open the door carefully. He found Harold sitting on the toilet, wrapped in a blanket rocking himself back and forth. Bear was at his feet. The distressed dog turned to his Alpha and whined pitifully. “I know Bear. We are going to help Finch. Just let me get to him.”

Bear stood guard in front of the door after Reese closed it. John knelt in front of his agitated lover. “Harold? Harold it's me, John.” The seated man stopped his rocking but did not acknowledge John's presence any other way. “Finch, it's me: Mr. Reese.”

All those bird pseudonyms were screaming their accuracy as Harold blinked owlishly and turned an eagle's focus on John's face. “Mr Reese?”

John breathed out all in a rush. “Yes Finch. I'm here. You're safe.”

Harold tipped his head slightly to the side in a quizzical manner and narrowed his eyes in thought. “David? And...and Kenneth. Is Kenneth alright?”

Reese rubbed warmth into cold shoulders and that stiff neck. “Yes. You saved them.”

Distress painted Finch's face and alarm colored his eyes. “I had to shoot Nick. I had to. “

Reese cringed at the agony and pleading in Finch's voice. It was as if Harold's pain were John's own. Reese gathered the smaller man into his arms. Carefully, Reese lifted his precious burden with Harold's head against his collar. Finch inhaled deeply and relaxed all over as if John's scent calmed him. Reese was so touched and relieved by this his knees went slightly weak. He pulled Harold even tighter against him.

After a few moments Finch's muffled but clear voice vibrated against John's breastplate as if to engrave the words onto Reese's very bones. “It was a stand- off. I couldn't let David choose between killing his brother or letting his brother kill Kenneth. No matter what decision was made, David would be crushed by guilt and remorse.” Finch balled John's shirt into a fist, Harold's knuckles were white with the strain. “I hope David can one day forgive me for shooting his brother.”

John heard the pain in Finch's voice but he also felt the steely resolve. That no matter what may come, Harold knew he had done the right thing. Finch may have secrets and schemes but at the core John was certain that Harold's moral compass always pointed at True North. Reese sat on the toilet seat holding Finch in his lap soaking up the wondrous knowledge that Finch was safe and in his arms. 

Bear abruptly barked startling Finch. The door opened to reveal Carter and a groggy but upright Fusco. Carter' eyes went wide as she surveyed John Reese cradling Harold Finch so intimately. 

It was Fusco who broke the tension. “Hey, can you get this mutt to let us check on Mr. Glasses? Or should I start calling Finch The-Man-in-the-Bespoke-Suit now?”

When Reese's brow furrowed in confusion Lionel continued. “Have you been teaching him how to kneecap a perp? Because he pretty much followed your lead. Right out of your book. Nick's been kneecapped like an expert.”

John shook his head. “We need to get out of here. I need to get Finch to a safe place. This was his first shooting.”

Reese stood and proceeded to shove the Detectives out of the bathroom with Harold clutched to him tightly. Carter woke from her daze and said, “Hutch and the Captain are fine and the units are on their way. Hutch says the Torah is in the study. We'll get agents to open the safe deposit box and see what's inside.”

Hutch approached cautiously. “Nick will be fine. Minimum blood loss. Harold saved me. He shot Nick so that Starsky didn't have to. I will forever be grateful.”

Harold raised his head and smiled a small Finch smile at Hutch. Hutch ran his hand over Harold's soft hair and smiled back just as sirens could be heard. Reese made to leave when Carter stood in front to stop him. 

“Harold will have to be interviewed for the shooting. He is still listed as your Sergeant's housemate. Although if the precinct debriefs both of you right now they are going to think the Captain isn't the only one with a husband.”

John grunted. “They can interview us together only after I make sure Harold is out of shock.” 

With that Reese pushed his way over the threshold and into the hall like a new groom carrying his bride.

Staring at the doorway Carter murmured, “I guess Reese _**is**_ dating after all.”

Beside her Fusco snorted. “The dating stage is over. I think they qualify as 'engaged' now.” Fusco looked over at his partner sincerely. “I hope I'm not invited to that wedding. I'm liable to get shot during the vows.”

Carter looked at her partner, then at Captain Starsky and Councilman Hutchinson. None of them seemed surprised by any of Reese's actions. _Huh_. 

She made eye contact with Fusco and smiled. “At least John has someone to look after him now. I think they will be good for each other.”

Joss mentally prepared what to say to the officers they could hear arriving and Lionel grinned like he was proud of her or something. _Huh_.

*~*~*

Carter and Hutch insisted that they needed to be in on the debriefing of the sergeant and his housemate Mr. Harold Penguin. Captain Starsky pulled rank to be in the room and refused to go to the hospital with his brother. Lionel wouldn't be left out so the living room was used to debrief the pair. 

Reese gave his account practically standing at attention. Even Carter felt the account was dry and stilted. After he finished he sat as close to Harold as he could without actually touching the older man. 

Harold gave a clipped account of the events with no emotion and very little eye contact. Reese seemed to desperately want Finch in his lap or at least holding his hand. When Finch described being struck by Nick, John flinched. It was equally and alarmingly clear that Harold would not allow John to display any affection in public at all. 

The shooting was detailed and recited over and over again for accuracy and to assure the officers that it was a good shoot. Reese looked like he was planning to build a time machine and change the past single handed. All that just save Harold from having to make that terror decision. Finch looked like he was disgusted by the very notion of guns. 

The responding officers were happy with the accounts and gave no outward signs of any problems. They were able to inform the group that Nick Starsky had a surgically implanted tracking device on him that was less than a year old. Seems Nick's bosses didn't trust him. Which explains how his crew knew which storage unit and that Nick would be there. When Nick ran from Bear and the strobe lights, he smuggled himself in Harold's trunk. Which answered the question: where did Nick get his gun?

Satisfied that all lose ends were neatly tied the officers and Detectives all disperse leaving Harold and John to collect themselves. Before either man could rise, Captain Starsky sat on the coffee table facing Harold. He cleared his throat. “Hutch tells me you think I might not forgive you for shooting Nick.”

“Captain I completely understand...”

“No you don't.” Starsky interrupted. “Cause I ain't mad. I am pathetically grateful.” Starsky looked pale. “I froze. I should have shot Nick as soon as I could. I messed up and froze.” The Captain's voice got tight with emotion. “I put Hutch, my Hutch in danger because I couldn't shoot my baby brother. I almost lost Hutch. If you hadn't...” The curly head dropped. “I wouldn't have been able to live with myself if I let Nick hurt Hutch.” He looked up. “You had my back when I needed someone. I can't thank you enough.” 

Harold nodded but remained silent. Starsky turned his attention to Reese. “I want to apologize for fucking up and making Harold have to use a gun. I know you can't forgive me but..”

“Nothing to forgive.” Reese interrupted. “I might not like it but sometimes Finch has to make a decision to get dirty. He's my partner.” Reese turned tender eyes over to be met by Harold's equally soft gaze. “He has a right to protect the innocent just as much as I do.” 

Hutch came over to rub Starsky's shoulder and pet Finch's hair again. “They are opening the security box now. We thought it best to get a group there fast. That way the bank roller of this whole scheme can't send more goons. Do any of you want to listen in on the surveillance?”

Finch sighed. “I for one am sick of this whole mess. The contents of that box have caused more pain, death and heartache the it is worth. No matter what lays inside, it pales in comparison to the trouble it has caused.”

Starsky and Hutch looked at each other and nodded. Kenneth said. “We agree. I think you and John need to take some time off.” He pointed a long finger at Finch. “You need to see a therapist about this but I know you won't. At least spend a few days resting. I am sure John can recognize any PTSD symptoms.”

Harold knew when he was outnumbered and agreed. “We might get a new case though.” 

Hutch leaned closer. “Try. For me: try.” He stepped back and smiled. “We want to see you in two weeks.”

“To check on me?”Harold asked with narrowed eyes.

“That too.” Hutch laughed heartily. “Mostly for company. I know this little bistro next to a hole in the wall rare books store.”

“Yes.” Finch brightened and Reese groaned. “I love that place!”

Hutch looked at Starsky who frowned, then turned a mega-watt grin on Finch.“So, a double date for lunch?”

Harold beamed. “Absolutely!”

 

  
  


  
  


  
  



	23. Epilogue

Harold directed John to a furniture design gallery warehouse nestled between several old buildings.Alleys ran crisscross on three sides: three different exits were visible, all monitored with cameras and motion sensors.

Harold did not enlighten a suspicious Reese but instead stepped out of the car and stood in front of the building with the wine bottle. When John joined him carrying the groceries, Harold entered a multi-digit code into the touch pad. The doors swung open and both men stepped inside to a foyer. To the former agent’s trained eyes it was obviously, a reinforced steel cage made to look like a drawing room. Cameras were everywhere along with a voice activated door.

Harold spoke his name ‘Harold Peacock’ and they entered the house proper. All the windows appeared to be bulletproof and ran from eight feet off the floor to the drop down ceiling.

It looked like a typical Manhattan loft in sleek modern tones used as a display. Finch limped over to the sidewall where an eight-foot high row of bookcases lay.

The recluse pulled off what Reese would swear was a first edition of Charles Darwin’s The Descent of Man, revealing a key pad behind it. Entering another code caused the bookcases to slide aside. A stunned Reese wordlessly joined Finch to rise to the next floor to the actual residence John now knew lay ahead.

Reese almost wanted to close his eyes, afraid he was wrong. That he wouldn’t be confronted with a myriad of books on every available surface. That he wouldn’t see every seat in the house with a different book beside it, marked with a piece of paper or old photograph to save the place.

Nevertheless, the taller man did open his eyes to be met with solid cherry wood, the more engravings the better. Heavy bookcases to allow pictures and frames to be hung from their dividers.

John had been trained to have a near photographic memory. To say nothing of how their first encounter together with Harold talking John to orgasm would be imprinted on his mind forever anyway. All details, no matter how small were forever etched into Reese’s brain in Harold’s smooth voice.

That is why John knew the shelves were so deep that many times Finch could place objects in front of the books for display. That dusting was a nightmare. That the only windows were in the front of the building, bulletproof and keypad locked everyone.

John might have memorized these particulars and recounted them every night as he lay beside Finch. But, to actually be here, to have proof that Finch really lived in the house he described, to see those heavy brocade curtains that block out light and sound, to behold the dark burgundies, purples, and rich blues with subtle goldenrod accents made John’s throat tight and his heart lurch.

As Reese mutely followed Harold to the kitchen, he absently noted a fireplace in every room and ceilings all tined with elaborate decorations.

The kitchen had copper leaf his mind supplied as Finch chilled the wine and John woodenly put away the groceries.

The older man sensed that his lover was overwhelmed and took John’s hand. Harold slowly led them to a bedroom with gold tined ceilings. The bed was large and adjustable with so many pillows of different sizes and shapes that one could hardly see the patchwork quilt. However, Reese knew it was there and pushed cushions off until he saw it. The time worn fabric lovingly preserved by the man he loved broke John. He sat down heavily and gazed at Finch with pools of tears in his eyes.

Harold moved in front of John and placed his hands on the younger man’s face. Tenderly, Finch directed Reese’s gaze to the mantle where lay a sepia toned picture of a stunning woman in her late teens with Harold’s nose. Beside it, a framed photograph of Grace smiling.

For the first time since leaving the car Harold spoke. “Beside my bed is a peculiar framed photograph of the warehouse itself.”

Finch left Reese’s side and moved to the bedside table. “If you press a rosette in the right corner, the warehouse photo rolls back.”

Harold picked up the frame and brought it near his lover. “To show a head shot.”

Finch pressed the rosette. “Of Sergeant John Fitzpatrick late of the Green Berets.”

There in Harold’s hand was John’s last official Army photo, taken about six months before he left for the CIA. It was too much. Reese clutched at Finch and sobbed into the older man’s belly.

Harold soothed as best he could and carefully abandoned the photo to the foot of the bed. He had thought John would be flattered. It never occurred to the recluse that Reese initially thought Finch was making the house up as he went along. “I’m sorry. I thought this would please you.”

“It does.” John looked up. “It does. More than you can ever know.” The tears and the crying darkened his eyes and left his long beautiful lashes wet. The crying left Reese’s throat hoarse and dry but he husked out, “Thank you.”

Finch cupped the gorgeous face and bent to kiss those swollen, puffy lips. What started as gentle soon grew hot and passionate. Reese inhaled deeply and grabbed Harold’s head. Carefully, John pulled Finch down with him on the bed, cradling Finch with his own body.

Soon, Reese wanted more and pulled away. “I want you. Can I have you? In this bed?”

They had discussed furthering their intimacy and Harold believed he was ready to fully share with John so the billionaire nodded his head.

A flurry of motion brought Finch to the middle of the bed sitting up. Reese was behind the smaller man, removing his jacket an unbuttoning the waistcoat.

Each unveiling was matched with kisses and sweet words of devotion. Harold’s mind was in such a haze of love, loyalty and commitment that he did not notice when he was left in nothing but his under shirt and slacks.

John paused to ask permission to remove the shirt, thus exposing Harold’s back and scars. Before the words left the taller man’s mouth, Finch took a shuddering breath and began pulling the shirt up. His range of motion was limited requiring him to pull his right arm out of the sleeve then his left. This kept the shirt bunched around Harold’s neck. John removed it carefully over Finch’s head after placing the glasses on the bedside table.

Confronted with the road map of scars from a spinal fusion for the first time took John’s breath away. So many scars, how had Finch survived the accident? It was obviously a miracle Harold could walk and was not paralyzed from the neck down.

John found his lips tracing a gnarled ridge. Reese smoothed his mouth over and down a path of past pain and suffering trying to lick away the memories.

Finch gasped at the unusual sensation. The scars themselves had no feeling but the edges of snow-white skin crackled with sensory input. It felt as if the transmission of touch were intermittent like a radio broadcast. Instead of static between actual messages, a heavy non-touch was received.

"John, you don’t have to touch them. I know they are grotesque."

Reese shook his head slowly. "They aren’t. They’re visible proof that you’re a fighter. Moreover, I am thankful for them."

"Thankful?"

Reese swallowed hard. "Yes, dead men don’t scar."

Harold paused."Oh"

John kept kissing each ridge and fold; his hands caressed Harold’s sides. Reese unfastened Finch’s belt and pants as he completed his devotional. The younger man gave Finch’s neck a final kiss and smoothly moved to face his lover. Reese kissed those thin soft lips and ran his wide palms down Harold’s thighs to his shins. With care, John removed both shoes and socks from the recluse’s feet. Warm touches along the finely tailored fabric kept Harold concentrating on his body not what Reese was doing. Helping Finch lie back, John shimmied the trousers down and off, constantly rubbing and massaging as he went along. When he encountered Finch’s injured calf, he paused. Once again, Reese was horrified by the damage and grateful Finch managed to claw his way to mobility. For without the ability to walk and move, Harold might not have sought John out. Further still, When Reese was bleeding out in that car park; Finch would not have been able to drive like a mad man to save the former agent.

He positioned Finch on his stomach. A pile of pillows kept Harold’s neck and back straight and supported his head. John spent minutes kissing and sucking Harold’s damaged neck and shoulders as a diversion to reassure himself that Harold was comfortable and could easily breathe. Once he was satisfied that Finch was content with the arrangement and still in the haze of lust, John continued to suck, lick and kiss down Harold’s spine. John’s hands caressed the sides of his lover, feeling the subtle curves and love handles he adored. When those skilled assassin’s hands reached Harold’s wide hips John’s breathe stuttered. Here, John lingered, his embrace firmed. Many people got to view Finch’s scars: Physicians, therapists, masseurs. Only John was allowed to see this, Harold’s weakness, his dignity, his heart. By allowing Reese to observe him at his most vulnerable, Finch was telling John that he trusted him. Over a year ago Finch trusted Reese with the numbers, slowly with his friendship. Now this: The complete faith that John Reese would never hurt or humiliate one Harold Finch no matter the provocation made John understand how a man could believe in redemption or at least benevolence.

Reese did not deserve this. This broken, beautiful man should fear him and rightly so. No one except Finch knew exactly everything about Reese, not even Jessica. Yet, here they lay with the predator crouched over his prey. In this position, it would be nearly impossible for Finch to defend himself.

John’s hands began to smooth over the generous mounds of Harold’s ass. The man was definitely stacked. John’s mouth descended to the right cheek. Not exactly kisses, but a lingering brush of his lips and nose as if mapping the area. The former agent’s hands began to knead and squeeze the muscle and fat they gripped. Harold’s hips squirmed and he moaned low in his throat. John lifted his head to double check Finch’s position. As he slowly lowered his lips to the left cheek, John’s breathe ghosted over Harold’s lower back and ass. “Don’t move. Let me.” John whispered as he started to map this cheek as well. “Please.”

Reese started to massage in earnest as he raised his head to look down. Both sets of fingers began rhythmically, to pull the cheeks apart. Slowly, John revealed his prize. Hard work, patience and honesty had rewarded him with this. The pink aperture twitched at the feel of the cool air it was exposed to. Harold shifted, obviously starting to realize Reese was examining his private place. John lowered his head to kiss that special gift. No other had been allowed this. No one else had been trusted and cherished by the vessel into which John would be pouring himself.

As John began to lick and suck where only he was allowed, the place where John would give himself to Harold and Harold would receive him, John’s chest ached. What a gift to be given. To be allowed to transfer all his anxiety, fears, doubts, hopes, dreams, & love into something that would hold it, keep it safe, stop it from harming Reese or anyone else, was far more reward than an anonymous star at Langley.

John Reese was a man who did not exist, who did not express himself through words but deeds. Here now, a ghost of a man was given an opportunity to show in deeds how very much he treasured Harold Finch, another Ghost in The Machine.

All this ran through John’s mind as he began to point his tongue and pierce the cocoon of his rebirth. Finch started to mewl and moan.

His hips undulating slowly, Harold cried, “John!”

Reese doubled his efforts and began to thrust inside. Harold was the talker in bed, but John could make his own pleasure known. By slurps, hums and enthusiasm, Reese communicated his gratification. John pulled the cheeks apart to delve deeper to the root of the man he loved. John wanted to gather all his tricks and skills to this one point.

“Oh!...God!...J-John!” Finch shuttered.

Pulling up, Reese observed the quivering mass spread out before him. Harold was relaxed yet waiting. John heaved himself up onto his knees gripping Finch’s hips. Carefully John placed a firm pillow under Harold’s pelvis, raising it. Finch’s legs spread further of their own accord, leaving that beautiful pucker exposed to John’s hungry gaze. Never one to miss an opportunity, Reese slicked up two fingers and entered Harold to the second knuckle causing the recluse to jump. John immediately searched for and found the nodule that represented Harold’s prostate making Finch groan and shudder. “Ah, John! Oh yes! There!”

That was his target. Scissoring his fingers, Reese rotated them while watching Finch thrash and hum. Music to John’s ears, all those little sounds and loud exclamations reassured him. Not only did Finch allow this, but also he was enjoying it; not simply enduring. With a mind to Harold’s virginity, John removed his hand to reapply lube and added a third finger. The slow spreading of his digits in that warm tunnel reminded Reese of his own straining erection. John waited though. He rotated his scissoring fingers and observed how the walls enveloped each one. It’s a cliché but Finch seemed to be clutching his fingers, drawing them in.

As he grunted out, “Mr. Reese, Please!” Finch clinched his anal muscles to grasp those searching extremities truly. That was John’s cue.

Others might find it odd that Finch, at an intimate moment like this, called his lover ‘Mr. Reese’ but John adored it. Harold thought of him as Harold first knew him. ‘Mr. Reese’ is who John is to Finch. Harold is the only one who calls him Mr. Reese and the formality speaks of ownership. After all anyone could be a John. Mr. Reese is Finch’s agent, partner, and lover.

His.

As John stretched up and leaned closer, he slipped on the condom and slicked his straining cock to give Finch what was his all along: all of John, all his guilt, all his worry, all his need, lust and love, everything.

Guiding his cock to the guardian muscles, Reese grabbed Harold about those wide hips. Slowly he entered Finch with a grunt, just the head. The need to go carefully warred with the desire to thrust and rut into the haven presented. John’s been patient thus far; the consequences of haste were too great to even imagine speeding up.

“Oh, John yes. Yes!”

Harold had time to come back to himself while John coated his cock and positioned it. This would not do. John needed to know he could get Harold out of his head. The genius was locked inside too often: inside his library, inside his isolation, inside his guilt, inside his enormous responsibility of the numbers, inside his massive brain.

John wanted and needed to give Harold something. Something that might partly measure up to all Finch had given him. So John thrusts deep, half his length buried in Finch in one go.

“Oh,God! Oh, John. Please. Please!”

Finch should never beg Reese for anything. John should be giving it all to Harold. Therefore, John soothed Harold by slowly lowering himself to hover over the man’s shoulder blades and whispered. “Shh, You’ll have it. Just let me take care of you. I promise.”

Reese moved his knees to the outside and carefully closed his lover’s legs. The change tightened Finch’s hold on John’s cock and briefly made stars appear in his eyes. The former agent grunted and tried to focus. Reese moved his hands to lay them between Harold’s shoulders and the supine man’s own clenched fists.

Reese widened his stance. John supported most of his weight on his hands and knees. He only pressed on Harold where they were partially joined. John’s legs imprisoned Harold’s and his arms caged Finch’s torso. Carefully, Reese withdrew his length almost to the tip then plunged back in a little further.

Finch panted.

John withdrew again and plunged forward a still further.

Finch whimpered.

Only about an inch or so left until a complete joining. Again John reluctantly retreated. The tight tunnel pulled Reese closer to completion. John had been skilled at keeping himself under tight control for years. Harold was an enormous temptation though, a temptation simply to allow his body to wallow in this pleasure.

John wanted this to last.

To that end, on the last withdrawal, Reese mentally tallied each firearm he had used since meeting Finch and thrust forward as hard and as deep as he could. When his testicles slammed into Harold’s rear, the billionaire gasped.

With rigged back and straining arms, John clenched his teeth together and held his breath. Beneath him, Harold panted and sighed. Slowly, Finch started to make tiny bucking motions with his hips. John molded his torso to Harold’s back and strained into his ear. “Just a minute.”

Harold whined but complied. Taking three quick, deep breaths, John pulled his hips back a few inches.

Bracing himself, Reese plunged forward to the root; eyes shut tight. Harold expelled all his breath, which hitched on the intake. John retreated a few inches again.

He slowly started to speed up as the walls cradling him began to loosen. He straitened his arms and pulled his weight off Finch. Reese eased most of that weight into his next thrust. Below him, Harold whined and groaned with each parry and lunge.

John’s speed increased but he kept pulling out only half way. He needed to find that nodule with his cock. Reese swiveled his hips minutely with the next thrust. The prone man beneath him shuddered and clinched all over. To his later embarrassment, Finch squeaked. Reese smiled.

Feeling and finding Harold’s prostate, the trained marksman had his target.

Never one to miss an opportunity, John plunged ahead with everything he had. After a few more quaking exclamation from Finch, Reese began really moving. His pelvis knew its destination, freeing John to concentrate on moving his right hand under Harold’s stomach.

There he gathered the leaking erection drooling for him. With a firm grasp of Harold’s cock, John hunched his shoulders, braced his left hand to haul himself up and charged forward.

Both of them yelped.

Reese lifted his head with a corded neck. As he pulled back, John opened his mouth to rasp. “Harold!”

Each lunge forward pushed Harold’s cock through the vise of John’s grip making Harold bray. Each retreat back forced John’s hand to the tip bringing a cry from Harold’s lips. Oh, how those sounds inspired Reese.

On a case that voice let him know he had back up, intel, a partner. Now, having that voice under him, keeping him grounded, letting him know he pleased his partner, gave John that feeling again. He wasn’t alone here. He had a partner in all things now. Finch once again gave him the Intel he needed to get the job done.

Reese was grateful.

He expressed his gratitude by advancing back further, almost to the tip, then rammed in deep and true. This increase in activity increased Harold’s volume. Like a loop, Reese thrust harder and Finch cried out louder.

Finally, Finch gave the wail that John had been waiting for. Harold’s body clamped down hard on the implement inside him and Finch screamed.

John’s hips continued their journey into those convulsing walls as he milked Harold’s cock through the aftershocks. Harold lay limp beneath him, heaving. John wiped his hand on the towel as he pulled his arm out from under Finch. Careful to keep his weight off the injured man, Reese mouthed along Finch’s neck and ran his clean hand down Harold’s side.

When Finch caught his breathe, John nuzzled his ear, “Ready?”

With a groan, Finch nodded. John clasped Harold’s fists and weaved their fingers together laying their palms flat on the bed. Reese shifted his weight to his hands and drew his knees tight against Harold’s legs. He lifted his chest up and surveyed his lover. Face flushed a beautiful rose; sweat dotting his brow, Finch had never looked more desirable to Reese. This was his. He planned to take it.

With a growl, John began to piston in and out. Heedless of back strain or muscle cramps, Reese started to snap his hips back and jerk his cock forward.

The relaxed burrow began to tighten with each attack nudging John’s foreskin back and forth at its entrance. The stimulation was overwhelming and John refused to fight it. His vision began to white out and brighten. His chest began to heave. His pelvis stuttered in its cadence. His eyes rolled back in his head and he howled.

Returning to himself moments later, Reese realized he had slumped forward onto Finch. With exhausted limp arms, John lifted himself up and carefully rolled to his right holding the condom securely. Reese removed the latex and quickly examined it for blood and leaks.

Seeing none, John discarded it and turned to his lover. Harold’s face was wet with sweat and tears. John’s breathe hitched. “Did I hurt you?”

“No.”

Reese was propped up on his elbow and caressed the face of his beloved. Swiping at the tears with his thumb, John asked, “What’s wrong?”

“I want to hold you.” Harold sighed.

“Ok”. With that, John placed his right arm under the pillows supporting Harold’s head and his left arm around his lover’s waist. When his gripped was sure, Reese hauled his prize over close to his chest.

With his face in John’s chest, Finch began to rub John’s sides and belly. “I love you.”

“Sorry that makes you cry.” Reese said.

Shaking his head, Finch starts, “It’s not. I just thought I’d never have this. It’s like moving an arm that has been immobilized for months. It is painful but healthy and good to exercise it: liberating. I don’t know. I’m not very good at expressing myself especially my feelings.”

“Doing a bang up job from where I’m sitting.” John whispered as he cradled the back of Harold’s head.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to thank JAY and MAMAHUB for tirelessly weeding through my offerings to get this work presentable. I would also like to thank Kmmerc, April Valentine and everyone who commented on this piece for their encouragement and willingness to take this long journey with me.  
> WE MADE IT!!!!!!!!!
> 
> I think I might cry.


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